Dash of Dash
by chezchuckles
Summary: A collection of fills from tumblr 'three words' prompts in which the scene or story is set within the Dash universe. Not in chronological order. For the full range of the Dash universe, check out my library on tumblr: writingwell(tumblr)com/library
1. no girls allowed

**A Dash of Dash**

* * *

 **A/N:** A collection of fills from tumblr prompts in which the scene or story is set within the Dash universe. These will be posted in the order in which I wrote the fills, _not_ in chronological order. They are also completely unedited, as I want to preserve the prompt/fill nature of their origin - a simple first draft of one scene, without revisions, much like improv.

* * *

no girls allowed

— ANONYMOUS

* * *

"No girls allowed." Kate lifts her eyebrow and crosses her arms over her chest.

Castle fidgets, shifting on his feet, swallowing thickly. Cop glare always gets him. "Um. Yes?"

"Are you asking me?" she says. "Because that sounded like a question rather than an assertion."

"Yes," he says, trying for assertive. "No - um - girls allowed."

She's silent.

Castle is sweating. But Dash comes running from the living room into the study and barrels into the back of Kate's legs, hugging her hard. "Mommy, it's my day!"

She narrows her eyes at Castle first, but she leans over to hug Dashiell around the shoulders, combing the hair out of his eyes. "Yeah, my wild man. I heard."

"Just for this," Castle says quickly. "Just for a few hours, Dash, buddy. Not for the whole day."

Dashiell's face crumples. "Not my day?"

Castle grunts, his son's disappointment sharp. Kate drops to her knees and wraps her arms around Dashiell, kissing his temple softly. "No, baby, that's not true. It's your day. Daddy just means that I won't be gone for long."

Dashiell lifts a hopeful face to his father. "It's my day?"

"Yes, yes, of course, my best man. It's your day. I just - well - I told Mommy no girls allowed, like we said, but I think Mommy was looking forward to spending some of the day with you too. So, well, you want Mommy here, right?"

Dashiell glances back to his mother, tilts his head. "But it's no girls allowed, Mommy."

Kate huffs, giving Castle a death glare like it's his fault. Well, it is kinda his fault. He did really talk up their boy's day.

"And Mommy, you're _two_ girls." He pats Kate's stomach, the bump that nudges between them. "You got my baby in there."

Kate lets out a little strangled laugh, lifts her eyes to Castle.

Yeah, that got him too. "You're right, wild man. Mommy counts twice, doesn't she? But how about we make an exception for Baby K, since she's not even born yet?"

Dash screws up a face, eyes Kate as if he has to think about it. "I guess." He shrugs a little and glances back to his father. "But we're still gonna do cool guy stuff, right?"

"Definitely." He reaches down and scoops his son into his arms. "But you know what? Mom does a lot of those cool guy things already. Probably better than your old dad too. So, I promise - we're gonna have a great day." He turns to Kate. "Right, Mommy?"

"Right, Daddy. Thank you for letting me spend the day with you," she says, so conciliatory that it makes him nervous.

Castle shifts Dashiell to his other arm, reaches out to knuckle her lower back. A peace offering for unintentionally excluding her. They both are trying to spend quality time with Dash before the baby comes.

"Dash, buddy, go find your coat," he says, letting Dashiell to the floor once more. "And Mommy's too. We'll leave in a minute."

Dashiell speeds off, back through the living room, leaving Castle alone with his very pregnant wife.

He rubs hard into her lower back and offers her his support, letting her bones rest. She groans and tilts her head forward. "Hey, tonight," he murmurs, wriggling an eyebrow. "More where that came from."

Kate smirks at him, steps back carefully. "I'm sorry, Castle. But no girls allowed."

—–


	2. Raven, bat, bulldozer

**A Dash of Dash**

 **A/N:** This one has been edited because for some reason I wrote it in past tense. All of Dash is present, thus I went through and changed the verbs.

* * *

Raven, bat, bulldozer

— SOPRANO193

* * *

She smirks at the Poe's raven, flicks its beak with her finger.

"Hey, now," he splutters, snatching it away from her as if to protect it. "That's Nevermore."

"I know," she says. "I remember that thing very clearly. I got you good."

Castle pauses, as if debating the merit of arguing the point with her. "Well."

This day has gone so well; she doesn't want to start something. She pushes through, not allowing him to defend himself. "You and your Halloween parties."

"I'll have you know I'm famous for my parties," he sniffs.

She leans back against the foot of the couch, nudging the box of decor with her foot. "Infamous, you mean."

"Or that."

She grins, full-blown, even though he's filled the living room with Halloween decorations. "Castle, I think it's slightly worrisome that you have more Halloween stuff than you do Christmas."

"Good thing for you, though. Wouldn't you say?"

"For me?"

"Since you have an aversion to Christmas decor that rivals the Grinch's."

She glares at him, shoving the box a little harder with her toe. A floppy, rubber bat squeaks from the pile and tumbles out, falling weakly to the rug. Its eyes are blood-red plastic. White fangs that drip. "This is truly horrendous stuff."

"It really _is_ , isn't it?"

"I didn't say horrific. I said horrendous. Pay attention."

He huffs and gathers the box to his chest, moves it away from her, settling it oh so gently to the dining room table with the others. She's been watching him for over an hour as he decorates the place, and she'll never tell him it's kind of… cute.

"Castle," she calls.

He turns from the dining area, askance on his face. She deserves the suspicion; she's been up and down lately. Especially lately. Too big to _move_.

"Castle, come help me up," she says, as if in surrender. It feels like one, that's for sure, the way they've fought these days.

But he comes, holds out his hands to her as he leans over. She takes his wrists, gripping tightly, and he pulls her to her feet.

He doesn't even groan and wheeze, as he's been doing the last few weeks. She hasn't found it funny, bulldozing her way through the loft with her belly leading the way.

Castle releases her wrists, though his fingers caress the pink scar that wraps around her skin like a bracelet. It makes her breath catch, makes her remember, and in remembering, she finds herself turning maudlin.

To match the decor.

She lifts on her toes as best she can, frustrated by the distance the bump makes, but she wraps an arm around Castle's neck and softly kisses him.

"I'm a Grinch in every season," she murmurs, sliding back down to flat feet. "Don't mind me."

"I'll change that," he says. His fingers touch the top of her stomach even though she absolutely hates that. "Give me time, Kate."

She opens her mouth to say - what? _stop touching me? -_ but instead the baby kicks and somersaults, up to his usual antics, a circus against her bladder.

She grunts and Castle laughs, that delighted, amazed thing that always catches her in the guts, makes her heart flutter at his joy.

He leans in over her and kisses her stomach. "Hey, my wild man. Calm down for your mommy. She's not a fan of Halloween like you and me."

Little does she know.

—–


	3. kate ellery motorcycle

**A Dash of Dash**

* * *

 _kate. ellery. motorcycle :)_

— ANONYMOUS

* * *

Ellery is moving boxes out of her way, sliding them across the concrete floor of the storage space in her parents' building, sitting down to use her feet and legs to push, when she unearths an old treasure.

Her mother's Harley softail, the chrome peeking out from under the drop cloth, as alluring and appealing as ever, even if covered in dust.

She stands slowly, wiping her hands off on her jeans, some reverence falling over her again just as it did when she was fifteen and found it the first time.

She touches the covering, slowly rucking it up with her fingers until the back wheel is revealed, the seat, the main body.

"Oh, your bike," her mother laughs, coming through the caged door of the storage unit. "I forgot about that being down here."

"My bike?" she squeaks, glancing over her shoulder. She thinks for a moment that her mother is talking about the two wheeler that she rode back in grade school. So prideful of learning to ride when Dash never could manage it.

And then it hits her that her mom is talking about the motorcycle.

"Mom," she laughs, a little caught by surprise. "It's your bike."

"Oh, well," she says, waving a hand as she sets a stack of boxes on top of an old desk. "Not really, huh? You appropriated it, as you were wont to do."

Her face flushes but Ellery rolls her eyes. "I didn't _steal_ it. I just… messed around with it. And how did you know that anyway? I was sneaking down here while you were at work."

"Oh, cricket, aren't you cute. Of course I knew. You were bringing spare parts down to the storage unit, baby."

She huffs at her mother, but she slides her fingers along the leather seat. "I guess I did appropriate it."

"You want it now?"

"It's your - your bike. Dad tells all these great stories about you and leather and-"

"Oh, gosh, stop right now." Her mother shakes her head, laughing a little. "Anyway, I stopped riding when I got pregnant with you. Never went back." Her mom reaches out as if she's going to touch, but her hand stops just short.

"Why'd you stop riding it?" Ella can't help asking. The motorcycle is beautiful. And her dad obviously loved that his wife rode it. The leather. Ew.

"Too much risk. I didn't want to leave you motherless." She gives a little laugh and extends her hand the rest of the way, combs the hair in Ella's pony tail. "For some reason, I thought you might need me."

"I do need you," she gets out, closing her eyes a moment to keep the dust from making them water. "You're my mom."

"Yeah." A slow smile. A brighter one as she grips Ellery's pony tail and steps in for a hug. "I'm your mom, kiddo. And I figured my job was risky enough. Also, and this might be too much, when you were about six months old, I was thinking really seriously about getting it back out again. As - as an escape route. I did that with Dash all the time, when he was a little baby. Just threw up my hands and left your dad to it. But you were an easy baby and I never needed it, and then just when I thought, maybe I should see if the bike still runs, one of my officers was shot right in front of me."

"Oh my God," Ellery gasps, jerking away from her mother to see her face. "In _front_ of you."

Her mom gives a shaky laugh. "Yeah. Not a good - not a good day. Dad came up to the station with you and it just all - hit me. There was no way I was riding a motorcycle in this city when you were this sweet little thing that needed me. And Dash, oh Dashiell. He was…"

"Dash," Ella says simply. Because it explains everything without a need to explain.

Her mom cocks her head. "Yes, Dash. So no more bike for me. Your dad wouldn't let me give it to you before, but I'm sure now - stunt woman extraordinaire - he wouldn't mind."

"Give it to me before?" she croaks, still rather stunned by the stories her mother seems willing to share now. "What do you mean. You were going to _give me_ the bike?"

"Of course. You spent all that time working on it. It's yours by right."

"No, but wait. Wait. _When_ were you going to give it to me? And why did Dad say no?" she wails.

Kate laughs. "Oh, honey, you were going to leave us, and I wanted you to have it, but Daddy said no, you would ride it cross country and kill yourself. He couldn't stand to think of you going two thousand or more miles on that thing. And I didn't want him to have a heart attack, so-"

Ella stands there, shocked beyond all rational thought. "If you would have given me that bike." Oh, God, if her mother had. "I would never have left."

Kate's jaw drops.

Ellery closes her eyes, opens them again. "Sorry. I - no. That's probably not entirely true. I mean, I - needed to get away from here. But if - that kind of - your motorcycle, Mom, would have been…"

"What you needed," her mother says, though her voice sounds thick. Her head shakes, hair falling forward, and Ellery realizes she's hurt her.

She's hurt her mother, and she _has_ been, did, she did hurt her, leaving for California and Meredith. Meredith who was always just Aunt Mere, never really _real_ as a person, as her father's ex-wife, not even real as Allie's own mother, and no _wonder_ Ellery hurt her mother.

"I'm sorry," Ella blurts out. "Oh, God, Mom, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean - didn't mean that at all."

Her mom's head jerks up, chin lifting, her eyes intent and fierce and that blazing look that always cowed Dashiell but made Ellery feel mean. Indignant. _I didn't do anything wrong,_ she always wanted to say.

But she _did_.

"Ellery," her mother snaps. "Don't be sorry. Do not ever regret the choices you've made. Look at you. Sweetheart, look at you." Softer now and her mom gathers her up into a hug that is at once both gentle and fierce. "What a beautiful woman you are, your heart, your strength, your character. California is part of what made you, and I _love_ you."

"I know," she chokes out, strangled by her mother's hug. She laughs as she realizes it, wonders if maybe this has always been the problem. Strangled by her mother's love. She never felt it in the right ways, the ways Dashiell just beamed under, so proud and filled up with it. Ella never _felt_ that.

But she wraps her arms around her mother in return, wanting her mom to feel it now too. "I love you too, _Mama_. I do. _Volim te_. I'm so grateful to you for - everything."

Her mom strokes through her hair, a nudging kiss against her cheek that puts her away again.

It's easier now, it feels better.

"I'm serious about the Harley. It's all yours if you want it."

"Oh, I want it. I really do. I cannot _wait_ to ride it in this city. Scare the shit out of Dad."

And her mom laughs, really hard, actually, so that she has to sink to the desktop and put her hands on her knees.

And that makes Ella feel really good too. Now that she's moved here, now that she and Nick are trapped in New York, she's found she's not dreading it at all. She's actually looking forward to this, more of this, having her mom as - as a friend.

She never thought she would be here.  
—–


	4. Ha! I win

**A Dash of Dash**

* * *

 _"Ha! I win"_

— ANONYMOUS

* * *

She studies up.

It's not that she's competitive, because goodness knows, she really is. She gets it from her mother, she's sure, and that's fine. No, that's not why she goes online and pores over scanned images of old handbooks, memorizes things like mating patterns and skewer and pin. That's not why she hides out with a couple of biographies she got from the library, reading voraciously in the hopes of picking up a few moves. Or absorbing, at least, something of the kind of thinking it takes to win.

To beat her father at chess.

Ellery Castle is determined to win.

And it's not because she's competitive. It's because he _gloats_.

He gloats and he has a victory dance that he parades all over their loft and he makes Mama _laugh_ with it even though it's nothing but annoying. Deeply, personally, profoundly annoying.

Dashiell is no help. He's actually good at chess, or he would be if he sat still long enough to play. He gets bored. He thinks about the things he said wrong to Jess at school that day or the mistakes he made on his math test or the toys Gram tripped over when she was last visiting them.

(Gram is getting old, and it makes Dash sad, and then he's thinking about Gram not being around as his biggest audience - and then Dash is gone, and you can never get him back. Ella is well-versed in the ways in which her brother can obsess, and there's only one way to beat it: go with it.)

Dash could beat Dad and stop his victory chant for all time, but of course he won't. Can't? Ella has begun to mull over that fine distinction these days, between what her brother is unwilling to do because it makes him uncomfortable or upset and what he can't do because it makes him uncomfortable or upset. Won't. Can't.

She has stopped thinking _won't._ She is afraid, she is sometimes very scared for her brother that it's _can't._

She wants Dash to be normal because he wants so very badly to be normal. But he's sixteen and won't even think about getting a driver's license; he's best friends with the captain of the dance team - the competitive cheer squad at their school - but he refuses even the suggestion of prom.

She gets it. But it would go so much easier for Dash if he just-

"Ha! I win!"

Ellery jerks to attention, lifting her chin from her fist only to find that her father has her in checkmate.

Again.

"Damn."

"Ellery," he warns. He hates the cursing; he says intelligent people use precise words. She always says _damn_ is entirely precise.

"You're supposed to say _checkmate_ ," she mutters. "Not _ha, I win."_

"But _ha, I win_ just delivers so much more satisfaction."

Ellery lifts her gaze and rolls her eyes at her father. "Thanks, Dad."

"But you've improved. Took a lot longer this time, nearly three hours."

Her jaw drops and she drags her phone out of her pocket, stares at the time. She was supposed to meet Omar and Ravi after their rowing practice. She missed it; she's got alerts waiting for her.

"Dad-"

"Go, go, cricket. Thanks for entertaining your old dad. Be home by ten."

She stops half-risen, her eyes cutting back to the board. She was so close. And she knows she could do it, given practice, enough time. She's so close to beating him.

She reaches out and touches the smooth black of her King. Her dad always calls himself the Rook, but she secretly thinks he's this one, the King, the one they all protect, the one the whole game pivots around. The Queen is powerful, of course, the most powerful, and her loss nearly guarantees the loss of the game - for Ellery at least - but no one centers their game around protecting the Queen.

She sits back down, begins lining up her pieces once more, nudging her father's white marble back across the board. It's a beautiful set.

"Ella?"

"I'm beating you this time. I can feel it. Sit down, Daddy. We're going again."

She protects the King.

—–


	5. Watching apply makeup

**A Dash of Dash**

* * *

 _Watching apply makeup_

 _— ANONYMOUS_

* * *

Ellery sneaks out of bed.

It's late, but Daddy took a shower after he picked her up from preschool, and even though she's four and four isn't allowed up after a nine, she's not tired at all.

Well, only some tired.

Ellery has quiet feet on the stairs.

Mommy is just walking through the door, dropping her coat and kissing Daddy on the lips, and then another one with a big smile, and Ella hunches on the middle step to make herself small and invisible, to make herself a cricket.

Daddy takes Mommy's coat and bag and hangs them up, and Mommy says _a shower_ and _I'm not late yet_ and Daddy follows her.

And Ellery follows them both.

They take the hall, but Ella slinks around the chairs and into Daddy's writing room, with the beautiful big desk and the books. She has a place here too, a place for her found things, and she touches the bookcase near the bedroom door to say hello.

She has one of Mommy's rings in her place. Ella squats down small, listening to Mommy talk to Daddy about one of her bad guys, and Ella finds the little hole under the bookcase and then the ring.

She snakes it out slowly, has to be careful or it will roll back. It's shiny like a star, like two stars, and Ella pushes it over her thumb to keep it safe, curled in the palm of her hand and the song hums through her head _more wishes than stars_ but Ella has stars in her fist.

She creeps around the corner of their open bedroom door and hears the shower cut on in the bathroom. Daddy is tossing Mommy's clothes over the chair and yelling something over the sound of the water about _getting shot at is no excuse for missing our anniversary_.

Ella's heart thrums.

She crawls under the chair, small and tight, the ring safe in her hand, and she lays her head against the wood floor, watching Daddy's legs as he goes back into the bathroom. Mommy laughs and the shower door clicks open and then closed again, and Daddy is in there a really long time. But he already took his shower so Mommy must be really dirty from getting shot at.

The shower shuts off and Ellery checks to be sure she's small enough, and then Mommy comes out naked, rubbing a towel against the ends of her hair, and Daddy after her, only in his pants. He must have helped Mommy because they're running late.

 _Is the sitter here?_

Daddy says no and pushes Mommy into the closet, and Mommy laughs and says something chiding about _call her_ and Daddy walks out of the bedroom mumbling _where is my phone?_

Ellery waits until Mommy has stepped into panties and bra - pretty and beautiful - and then into her dress. Mommy arches to get a hand behind her, but she can't do the zipper, and instead, she huffs and scrapes back her wet hair and heads for the bathroom again.

Ella follows now, sliding carefully along the floor until she is met with the short hall to the bathroom. She glances back to be sure Daddy isn't sneaking up on her, and then she crawls forward to hunker down near the door frame.

Mommy is sitting at the mirror, leaning in and pressing her fingers to the corners of her eyes, lifting them up. She looks side to side and then rolls her eyes, flicking her fingers in a way that Ella knows means _be gone_. But it's not at her, and Mommy doesn't look mad at anyone, just smiling.

Cream first. White and smells like roses, and Mommy smooths a small little dab onto her cheeks, circles, and up to her temples, across her forehead. Ella has touched it before, sneaking inside the bathroom once and opening all the jars and bottles and compacts. It feels cold cold, and when Ella put some on her own cheeks, it was like tears.

Mommy pats her face and looks at herself in the mirror. Her fingers move without looking for the drawer and pull it open. "Come on out, _mala svraka_. Sit up here with me."

Mommy's not even looking!

But Ellery crawls out of the doorway and stands up, inches forward with her hands behind her back.

"Hey, baby girl," Mommy says, turning now and holding out her arm. Ella comes in against her and Mommy softly kisses her cheek. "You watching me get ready for my date?"

Ella nods, her eyes straying to the image in the mirror.

Mommy's eyes follow, and then her hand pets down Ella's hair. "We look alike, don't we, baby?"

They - do. "But you're pretty," Ella says softly. Mommy's hair in all those beautiful waves, curly because of the water.

"You're pretty too," Mommy whispers, kissing her cheek. "See?"

"You have makeup." Ella squirms beside her mother. "I can have makeup?"

"You can watch me, and when I'm done, I'll put a little on your cheeks."

Ella presses in against Mommy's side.

Mommy laughs and brushes her hair back. "Don't hide your beautiful smile, sweet girl. I like seeing it. Makes me smile. Here, get up on the counter and watch in the mirror."

Ella climbs up onto Mommy's stool and then onto the low counter, turning so she can see. But instead of watching the mirror, she watches Mommy, the dab of liquid like creamy coffee, the pat of the powder. Mommy leans in and touches one hand to Ella's knee as she uses the other to draw her eyes with dark dark lines.

"How's that?" Mommy says softly, pulling back.

"You look like the Queen of Egypt."

Mommy grins, kisses her on the lips. "You're sweet."

"She's right." Daddy comes in through the door and leans in over Mommy, kisses the side of her neck. "You're the queen. Five years. Have I said happy anniversary?"

Mommy laughs and lifts her hand to touch the side of Daddy's face against hers, cheek to cheek, and it makes Ella squirm on the counter, her stomach flipping and her heart all hard beats.

"Only six years? Queen longer than that, Castle, even if I dragged my feet marrying you."

Ellery leans in and throws her arms around Daddy, and Daddy grumbles like a bear as he picks her up. She giggles when he pretends to eat her neck, and Mommy stands from the chair and comes with them, kissing Ellery's cheek.

She rubs off lip gloss with a thumb. "I have to finish getting ready. Babe, zip me up?"

Mommy turns and Daddy juggles Ella and gets a hand on Mommy's zipper, has to step in close. "Cricket, help me out. Grab the bottom and hold it tight."

Ellery giggles but she does as she's told, and then Daddy zips up the back of Mommy's beautiful blue dress. Shimmery. Like the sky right before it's very dark at Papa's place in the woods.

"Ella, want to stay up until the sitter gets here?" Daddy asks, kissing her cheek as they step back and watch Mommy together. "Mommy's not the only one running late."

"Please?" Ella asks, pouting up at Daddy.

"I already said you could," he growls, that big bear growl that makes her giggle again. Mommy heads for the dresser, Daddy follows with Ellery riding in his arms, and Mommy tilts her head as she puts in her earrings.

"Rick, I never did find-" Mommy frowns and glances across her dresser, then sighs and reaches for her necklace. Her hands are jerky. "No, I got it," when Daddy moves to help. She looks not as happy as before.

 _Oh_. Oh, Ellery has-

"Mommy, I find this," she says softly, unwrapping her fingers from her hand and holding it out.

Mommy glances over at her and then her whole face floods. She surges forward and cups Ella's hand between hers. "Oh, God, baby. Thank you, thank you. I've looked everywhere." She kisses all of Ella's fingers and then her mouth and forehead, and then comes back and gently unthreads the ring from Ella's thumb. "Rick, I just - I swear I don't know how I lost it."

Daddy touches Mommy's elbow, nods his head to Ellery. Ellery glances between them; Mommy is quiet and sliding her eyes away.

"It's a pretty star," Ella says, trying to understand. "Two stars, side by side."

"It is, isn't it?" Daddy says, nudging his forehead into hers. "But, Ella, sweetheart-"

"Ella," Mommy says quickly, reaching in and taking her out of Daddy's arms. "Ellery, my beautiful girl, come here. I have something for you."

She puts Ellery down and she stands on her own feet, follows her mother towards the low dresser under the window. Mommy pulls out the top drawer which is almost over Ella's head, and then takes out a little velvet box.

"This was something my grandmother had," Mommy says quietly. "And I want you to have it. It's a little bit like a star."

Mommy opens the box and inside is a small little necklace, pink gold, with a little round circle hanging from it.

"It was her necklace when she was your age," Mommy tells her. "And see this pendant? A diamond chip. Like a star. Like my ring." She leans in and kisses Ella's cheeks. "You can wear it or you can hide it - it's yours."

Ellery reaches out and gently takes the box in her hands, holds it close to her face to see everything.

And then she closes the box and clutches it against her chest. "I keep it for you, Mommy."

"No, baby, not for me. You keep it for you, because I gave it to you, because I love you, because you mean more to me than all the stars."

X


	6. baseball, birthday, baby

**Dash of Dash**

* * *

 _baseball, birthday, baby._

 _— OHSWEETDARLING_

* * *

Kate Beckett crawls out of Castle's bed and stands on her own two feet, swaying in the darkness.

She touches her fingertips lightly to the plane of her stomach below her belly button, can't even begin to comprehend the changes that will happen in short months.

She turns to gather her clothes from the floor and instead is arrested by the sight of him, tumbled and sleeping, the sheets tangled around one leg, flirting at revealing everything. The power of him never ceases to amaze her, all that leashed and carefully concealed intensity and passion that he plays off as charm and boyish appeal.

It's very real. It's very intense. And he wants _her_.

The problem isn't that. The problem is - this.

Everything else. Life. This isn't where she expected things to go, but now that it's done, she can't pretend that she would be doing this with anyone else.

There is no one else, there will never be anyone else.

Kate sighs and dips the bed with a knee, leans in over him to softly kiss the smooth curve of his cheek. And then, because she can't help it, because she's having a baby with him in about six months, she kisses the corner of his mouth.

When she rises from the bed, a strange and tidal love has swept clean the anxiety. For now. Steadier, below all that, is a love like an anchor, and she's not sure if it's love for this baby or love for him, but every tug of the chain finds her held steadfast.

And that's a relief.

Now for the morning.

—–

She feels her phone vibrate in her back pocket the moment Jeter hits a home run to tie the game. The whole crowd surges to its feet, screaming and cheering, and her father's whistle is piercing above the crowd.

She checks and Castle's message does sound a tad bit frantic, if she knows him at all, and after the events of last year, she doesn't blame him. She sits down in the middle of the cheap seats, bends her head over the screen. Not a selfie, but the score of the game, all tied up in the bottom of the 9th.

Kate texts him back that proof of life and pockets her phone, finds her father smirking at her. "What?" she says, hearing the defensive in her tone. Though her father might not, not with the way this crowd is chanting and stomping its feet.

Jim Beckett merely pats her knee. "Looks good on you, Katie."

"What?" she scowls, even though her father was the one to champion this back - forever ago.

"Rick Castle. Life. Love. All of it. I'm glad for you. It makes me proud."

She rolls her eyes, but she's a daddy's girl, always has been, and it makes her chest tight and her own pride fierce. It also gives her a little boost of confidence.

She gets brave because of Castle too, doesn't she? And she's wasted time all game trying to get this out.

"Dad, I - um - have some news on that front."

Her father turns to look at her, but at that moment a foul ball arrows their direction, and they both call a heads up and get ready, braced for it. The ball hits four rows down, and bounces wild, and for a moment, she and her father are simply watching and waiting to see who gets it.

A man in dark sunglasses, a beer, vaunts it high over his head, strutting, but the moment Kate is ready to dismiss him, he turns and hands the baseball to a little girl in a pink pin stripe hat - not even his daughter - and the beaming girl, her shy awe and whispered thank you, have Kate's heart in somersaults.

She makes a fist and presses it under her sternum, and the scars on her wrists are somehow burning.

"Katie? You have news?" her father prompts.

She turns and sees the expectancy on his face, the way his eyes flick once to her bare fingers and the little frown that settles. Not the right kind of expectant, she thinks.

"I'm pregnant," she blurts out. Her cheeks flame as her father's jaw drops. "That sounds so bad. It's not bad. No, it's bad, God, it's terrifying, but Castle is a father. He'll know what to do."

"Castle is _a_ father or _the_ fath-"

" _The,_ " she growls at him, swiping the soda out of his hand and taking a huge gulp. "The father. Come on, Dad. Don't-"

"No, no, I know. I'm a lawyer, the wording is important."

"So?" she says, spreading out her hands and gesturing with his souvenir cup. Soda sloshes and she takes another sip. "Lay it on me. A lecture, at the very least, about unprotected sex-"

"Unprotected?" he says, a kind of bellow in his voice that has her wincing. "I assumed _faulty_."

"Oh, no, I-" Her cheeks flame and she can feel her insides squirming. Thing needs to calm down; she has to get this out. "I meant in general. Faulty is - accurate - um - I guess birth control isn't what it used to be? Or-"

Or they shouldn't have sex like it's going out of style.

"Well, you were the same. Faulty birth control. The OB had the nerve to suggest to Joey that she skipped a few pills and brought it down on herself. You, that is. She was not happy about that. Switched OBs."

 _Joey._ She hasn't heard her father use his nickname for Johanna in a decade or more. "I was a mistake, that's what you're telling me?"

"Is this a mistake?" he says back, gesturing towards her. His eyes, oh, his eyes are _alive_.

"I… yes and no. Give me a few months and we'll see," she says, acerbic wit shining through. But the fist against her sternum says protection, says _mine_.

"An accident, Katie, but no mistake. We loved each other. And - well - I won't talk for you or Richard. But-"

"Yeah," she sighs. "We love each other." Too much, sometimes, and it swamps her, _drowns_ her, but it's still there. Just like that anchor, tugging her back.

"Well, then," her father says. "Congratulations, sweetheart. You're going to be a mom."

And then at just that moment, Yankees score with a walk off home run to end the game.

Just that easy.  
—–


	7. Looking for bookshop

**A Dash of Dash**

* * *

 _Looking for bookshop_

 _— MYNAMEISJEFFNIMLOST_

* * *

His fingers are clammy.

Ellery Castle - Ellery Queen to the crew - tries not to wince as she slowly wriggles her hand out from his. He glances back at her, rather bewildered looking, and she wipes it on the flare of her skirt. She's not sure this was a very good idea, and now that he's caught her move, his cheeks flame brightly. He dries his palms on his jeans.

"Nick," she says, wanting to break the news gently.

 _This isn't going to work._

"Yeah." Nick nods and glances away from her, and his quick agreement stuns her for a moment (is he going to break things off first, before she can?). But he shrugs his shoulders under his jacket and looks back at her with renewed determination, takes her hand.

"Nick?"

He shakes his head and heads off down the sidewalk, practically dragging her with him. His hand is still clammy, but it's not as bad as it was. That's something.

But still. "Nick, what are you doing?" she huffs. She meant to make this fast. She gave in to his repeated dinner invites only so she could say she'd done it, given him a shot, but she has zero interest in him.

He's usually so annoyingly _arrogant_. He thinks he knows everything, always telling her how to drive. Telling her what to look out for on set, like she hasn't been doing this since she was nineteen, like she doesn't know how this works.

"Nick. Seriously. The silent and brooding thing isn't attractive. Not my type."

He flashes her a smirky little grin. "Well, it is mine. Aren't you lucky?"

Her mouth drops open. She expected a little more politeness on their first date, and truth be told, he's been very polite. And awkward. And nervous. But this is the first time she's seen a glimpse of the man she works with every day. She's not sure if she likes it. The awkward teenage boy thing was bad, but his usual might be worse.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she mutters, yanking on her hand. "And what are you doing anyway?"

"Looking for a bookshop."

Ellery halts in the middle of the sidewalk, the warm LA sunlight haloing this man before her, making him look almost like a stranger. Who _is_ this guy? No one in LA wants to go to a bookstore, no one in their business anyway. He must know about her dad.

"How did you know? I haven't told _anyone._ "

Nick cocks his head, his confident smile giving way again, just that fast. Quiet closes his eyes off, makes him almost impossible to read.

He really is handsome. His eyes, something about them.

"Told anyone what?" he says. His voice is rich. Like her father's.

"About - nothing," she murmurs. "Why… are you looking for a bookstore?"

"I just - look…" He gives a self-deprecating roll of his eyes. "You don't want to be going out with me. Fine. I get it. I'm stubborn and persistent, and you gave in. But let's salvage what's left of our Sunday, if we can? It's a beautiful day, we've had great food, and your company hasn't been terrible. Plus, it's a good test."

"A… test?" She feels the nudge of pedestrians around them, but she doesn't pay them any heed. She thought they'd be walking down to Santa Monica Pier, like all the other first dates she's been on.

She can't help remembering her _mother_ , and why her mother is on her mind now, of all days and places, she has no idea. Just. Bookstores. And the test.

Her mom has a test for bookstores too. She always says she can tell what kind of character a person has by the characters he or she picks from the shelves. By the time Ella was in high school, she dreaded going to bookstores with her parents. It was so embarrassing.

Why was she so embarrassed by them?

"A test," Nick says. He's drawing her forward, she realizes belatedly, tugging her down the block to the corner. "How a man - or woman - approaches the sanctity of the bookstore. Says a lot about them."

She blinks, ignoring the part of her brain that automatically corrects his pronoun agreement ( _why_ is she thinking about parents so much today?). "It does, huh? Your diction rather gives you away." _Sanctity._

"Yeah, well, bookstores are my church. So come on. See if you pass muster. Though I can promise no one will strike you down with lightning for irreverence."

"I thought you were the one who asked _me_ out."

"Did I?"

She glares at him, and Nick only grins. She's walking with him, she realizes; they've turned the corner.

He leads her to a dirty glass door with the hours painted in pale blue above the handle. The displays in the windows look decades old, made of construction paper faded by the sun. Nick stops her before they go inside.

"Ellie," he says, a seriousness in his voice she's only heard once before - when he said he was sorry for not listening to her about a stunt. "Give me a shot. All I'm asking. Just give me a chance to know who you really are. Behind the tall, dark, and brooding."

No one has ever wanted to know who she really is.

No one has ever called her brooding.

"Come on," he says, squeezing her hand. "Bookshop test. Who knows? You might fail utterly. And then you're off the hook."

Her chest tightens, but she finds herself leaning forward to grasp the handle of the door, relishing the challenge in a way that, lately, the stunts just haven't been doing for her. "Oh, Nick, you have no idea."

—–


	8. she said yes

**#71**

(a Dash fic)

* * *

 _she said yes_

 _— ANONYMOUS_

* * *

 _For Kate  
who said yes_

She smooths her hand over the dedication page, fights back the choked sensation in her throat. When she lifts her head, he's standing in the middle of his living room, arms at his sides, not looking at her in that kind of desperate way that means he wants so badly to look at her.

She feels the baby kick and takes a deeper breath, as deep as she can with the wild man pressing up against her lungs and organs. "Castle."

He looks at her then, his face creased in consternation, immediately opening his mouth and filling her quiet with words. "It's not like what you think - I know you said _no_ and I respect that, I don't expect to - but maybe it puts that out there and it's not a good idea to give people that idea when that's not what we're about, that's not what's important, if you marry me or not, I know that, but I thought-"

"Hush, Rick."

He comes to a halt though his jaw works silently.

She closes the book, first edition, all for her, and she presses it against her chest. "I think it's sweet," she says.

He lets out a huge breath, his whole body deflating in relief, and he comes slinking towards her, as if he's a chastised child. He drops to the floor at her feet and leans his forehead against her knees. She releases one hand from the book and cups the back of his head; she's found herself irritated by every little touch and brush of contact during her pregnancy, but not today. Strangely enough, she feels tender towards him. How stumbling and earnest over this book. Over this baby.

She should mark this date down. September 17th. Kate Beckett feels mushy over Richard Castle because of a book.

It's not really all that amazing, is it?

"Kate?" he whimpers.

She laughs, realizes she's kept him in the dark, and cards her fingers through his hair. "It's because I said yes to having your baby, Rick Castle. I know what it means."

He gives a little laugh himself and lifts his head, a watery smile on his face. "Yeah," he breathes. "Because you said yes to - us. When you agreed to this. Um. Did you know that?"

She fists his hair and shakes his head a little. "Of course I did. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be."

Castle drops his cheek to her stomach - which she hates, _hates_ \- but the baby kicks him in her stead. She gapes, laughing, and Castle jerks back, rubbing his cheek, scowling at them both.

"You made him do that. You Jedi-mind-tricked him."

She laughs harder, breathless with the way her lungs won't expand, and she reaches out and tugs on his plaid shirt, tugs hard. Castle comes up onto the couch with her and she leans into him, his book between them - and the baby.

His fingers lightly touch her stomach, but he puts a kiss to her lips that makes her melt.

"Thank you for saying yes," he says. His thumb brushes her bottom lip, and his other thumb makes a slow circle around her belly button, and somehow his touch closes a loop, makes a complete circuit, and her whole body lights up.

"Bed," she mumbles against his mouth, taking another kiss, another. "Bed. Right now, Castle. Show me how grateful you are."

Oh, God, is she nesting? That's the only explanation for this, how desperate she is to touch him, have him touch her.

How demoralizing.

"Hurry," she tells him anyway, struggling to get to her feet, carrying his book with her and leaving him in the dust.

"Dedication page," he mutters, hustling to catch up to her. "I am going to remember this one. Fastest way to get laid."

She shoots him a glare over her shoulder and he shuts up fast, but it's too late for her anyway. She's a goner.

Rick Castle. Who would've thought?

—–


	9. Dash Eiffel tower

**#75**

* * *

 _Dash Eiffel tower ?! Please..just a little one would do ._

 _— ANONYMOUS_

* * *

The crowd clears just enough for their view to open up, and suddenly Kate Castle can see the ground one hundred and forty feet below them. She risks a glance upward to the top of the Eiffel, and the dizzying splendor of iron lattice sends a weird rush through her body.

"Mom, I can't. I can't."

Kate halts one step onto the massive clear plexiglass walkway, turning back to the boy she has by the hand. "Dashiell," she warns. Already Castle and Ellery are five or six people ahead of them, getting pushed farther away by the crowd, the two of them caught up in gawking at the ground below.

"Mom, I can't," Dash panics, tugging free of her hand and backpedaling into a cluster of high school students.

"Dashiell, _stop_. Right now."

Dash whimpers but stops in his tracks, his face bloodless, his fists clenched at his sides. Kate's heart is in her throat, but she winds her way through the crowd of tourists and takes his hand once more, cups the back of his skull and presses his face into her hip.

She glances ahead, not liking the way they've been separated up here, and now the extreme height begins to pluck at her, Dashiell's panic almost contagious.

"Mom," he moans into her jeans.

"Hush, wild man," she murmurs. "I'm right here."

"I'm gonna fall."

"No, you are not going to fall."

"Mommy."

She tightens her hold on him, squeezing him tightly around the shoulders and upper back, hoping a jolt of deep pressure will bring his sensory system back online. She can feel the way his knees have melted, his fists gripping her shirt. People are giving them looks, and she knows it's because her son is too old for crying into his mother's shirt, too old to be coddled, but she doesn't give a damn what they think.

Kate grips Dashiell tighter, releases one hand to draw her phone out of her messenger bag. She shoots a text to Castle ' _Go on without us. Dash and I are heading back down',_ but she doesn't wait for his response. She crouches before Dashiell and cups his face in her hands.

"Dash, we're going back to the stairs. Can you do that? Or do I need to get us on the elevator?" All around her are the sounds of awe and excitement in a handful of languages, some of which she can understand, some she doesn't. But she focuses on her son's pinched face, his trembling mouth. "Dash. You're gonna have to open your eyes, my man."

"Can't," he gasps.

"You can. Look at me. Look only at me."

"Mom."

"You can do it," she encourages softly. "I know there are a lot of people, and a lot of noise, but you and me, baby. All the ways."

Dashiell's eyes flutter open in surprise and lock on hers, dark and troubled, desperate for any kind of help or hope.

"Now, stairs or do we wait for the elevator?" With all the other special needs cases.

"I - I can do stairs," Dashiell croaks, putting on a brave face that looks more like a grimace.

"Good job, baby. Stairs are right behind us. You want to go ahead of me or behind?"

"Behind." His voice is as tight as his clenched teeth.

"Look only at me. You understand?"

Dashiell is nodding when her phone goes off, but she ignores it to straighten up, her concentration on her son.

He sways, eyes going wide, and she cups the side of his face, presses his cheek to her hip. He grips the pocket of her jean with his free hand, and she squeezes his poor little fingers as she nudges them away from the edge of the iron catwalk.

"Did you tell Dad and Ella?"

"I texted Dad."

"I bet that's him."

"I'm sure it was," she says easily.

"I'm ruining it."

"You are _not_ ruining anything."

"Dad and me were so excited-"

"He's got Ellery with him, and I've got you. Let Ella be our daredevil, baby, and you and me can people watch."

"Okay."

"And-" she says shortly, walking him back towards the massive, broad staircase. "We'll get some coffee while we wait on them."

Dashiell's eyes flicker up and then down again, bumping his forehead into her hip as the sky enters his line of vision. "Mom. It's bad. It's really - I can't feel my feet."

"Okay, then coffee and ice cream. Now can you feel your feet?"

Dash actually laughs, a little groan at the end, but she keeps them moving. If she can just get them to the staircase, he'll be fine. It'll be fine.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"For what?" she says immediately. "For forcing your poor mom to drink coffee and eat ice cream while Dad does all the work?"

Dash does laugh a little freer this time, and even though his head is against her hip and she still has a grip on his hand, he's able to pick up his feet. By the time they make it to the staircase, he can detach from her a little, held only by his hand, just another neurotypical kid in a sea of people.

The crowd going down is dense and tightly packed, and she knows he's fighting it hard, can see him trembling, nostrils flared. From the outside, he looks like he's about to tantrum, as if he's three instead of old enough to know better, but Kate is used to picking up on Dashiell's signs - how tight a grip he has on his control, how hard he's trying.

By the time they make it to the bottom again, feet on firm concrete, Dashiell's knees go out and she has to catch him. "Okay, okay, what a good job you've done, Dash, baby. I'm so proud of you, so proud of you. Here, we can lean against the history mural and take a breath."

She bodily picks him up, carries him to the temporary wall set up for the ongoing construction, leans them both against it. Dashiell wriggles in her grip and gets down, but it's more of a controlled collapse, slumping to the pavement.

Kate sinks to her haunches beside him, pulls out her phone again. Message from Castle: _Need help? We can go if Dash needs us gone._

"Hey, baby? Dad wants to know if you need us all to go? Find some place quieter."

Dash rallies, putting his back to the wall and shaking his head with a fierce look. "No. Just - coffee and ice cream, Mom, right?"

Kate ruffles his hair, knowing he hates it when she kisses him. "Your call. You let me know, okay?" She texts Castle to carry on, and then she sinks down to sit beside her son to give him a few minutes to decompress in the shade of the wall.

"Mom."

"Yeah, wild man?"

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. She can see he's staring into the distance, watching a family with two rambunctious kids hopping around in excitement. "I'm sorry my brain is-"

"Never _ever_ apologize," she says harshly. Too harsh, because his eyes jerk to hers, mouth dropping open. "Don't you dare, Dashiell. Don't use your issues as an excuse to feel sorry for yourself. Or make others feel sorry for you. You're just different, not wrong."

Dashiell's shoulders slump but he leans in against her, his head to her shoulder. She lifts her hand and cards her fingers through his hair. "But everyone else can do it. Everyone else doesn't have to go downstairs like a baby."

Kate scowls, scanning the crowd as she racks her mind for a way to fix this. "Hey, you see those three people over there? Dad, two daughters, older girls. They're probably twenties? Red purse, the other girl has a white hat-"

"Yeah. I see them. I think they're not sisters but just friends."

"Maybe so," she concedes, but not the point. "I bet they don't go up. Watch them and see."

She knows they won't - they don't have tickets and they're looking at the line as if it's crazy. She and Castle had to reserve their tickets online months ago for this, just to go up, and the two girls look like they didn't exactly plan ahead.

"They're walking on through," Dash says, startled, sitting up straight. "Why are they doing that?"

"Because not everyone likes heights. Not everyone thinks it's necessary to get the bird's eye view from up there. Some people just like the way it looks from down here. Maybe they'll come back tomorrow and try again. Or they just don't _care_ , baby. It doesn't matter to them, doesn't matter at all."

Dashiell draws his knees up to his chest and hooks his arms around them, squeezing and pressing out at the same time. Doing his own deep pressure work to orient his system. She can see that she's caught his attention, that he's watching as other people approach the base of the Eiffel Tower and then walk under it and away.

Not everyone has to go to the top.

It's not the end of the world.

At least, she hopes that's what he's figuring out.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yeah?"

Dash glances up at her, a sly smile on his face, eyes untroubled once more. "Where's my ice cream and coffee?"

Kate laughs, catches the back of his neck, and gives him a rough, smacking kiss. "Costs you a kiss. Now come on. Let's make Dad jealous."

—–


	10. Hollander's Dash AU

Hollander's Dash AU. Please and thank you!

— ANONYMOUS

* * *

"Keep me 'wake," she mumbles against his shoulder.

Castle reaches out and catches Ellery before Kate can completely slip away, his hand under the newborn's head. Kate grunts and struggles back to consciousness and he really does feel for her.

He feels for himself. With Dashiell not sleeping lately, a run of insomnia that started before the baby was born, and then Ellery nursing every two hours, Castle's brain has turned into a wasteland.

"Castle," she groans.

"Sorry, yes. Awake. Sorry."

"Talk," she says, squirming back against the headboard with Ellery in her arms. "Castle, so help me, if you don't talk, talk, say _something_ , I'm going to fall asleep and smother her-"

"No, no, won't happen. Won't let that happen." But. Yeah. He's - so tired. He's on Dash duty since Kate is breastfeeding, and it is really not going well. Dashiell is probably awake right now, upstairs wide-eyed in the dark, whimpering.

He should check on his son.

To make matters worse, the little girl likes to nod off herself, so that halfway during a feeding, they're all asleep, and then Ella wakes thirty minutes later needing to be fed again.

"Tell me a story," Kate says, tilting her head back as her jaw cracks on a yawn.

"A bedtime story?" he asks, rubbing the grit out of his eyes.

" _No._ Oh God. I'm gonna kill her. I'm so tired-"

"Won't let you roll over on her, promise. I promise. Let me think. Let me - what kind of story?"

"You're supposed to be the entertaining one, Castle. Why can't you-"

"Fine. Jeez. You are so grumpy when you're tired."

"Tired? I'm _sleep-deprived._ This goes beyond tired. And you. You are so _chipper_. What is the _deal_ with that, Castle? What is your damage that you are such a crazy goofball-"

"I get punchy," he says blandly.

"I just want to punch," she growls.

"Okay, that's some honesty I did not expect," he murmurs. And even through his sleep-pickled brain (wait, what is it when you haven't had any sleep at all, and your brain is pickled? because that's more accurate-)

"Cas-sttleee," she moans.

"Truth or Dare," he blurts out.

Ellery gives a startled little noise, popping off Kate's breast and staring up at him. Well, at least someone is awake.

"Did you just initiate a high school angst game with me?"

"Truth or Dare, Kate Castle."

"I'm still pissed about that birth certificate."

"No, you're not," he grins. "I'm picking Truth for you, and no. You're not pissed about that birth certificate, are you? It says Kate Castle, and you like it. You like it a lot."

She's quiet for a heartbeat too long and he thinks this was a very bad idea, and then suddenly she's turning her head into him and burying her face in his shoulder.

"Yes. I - like it a lot. I really like being your wife."

A flush blooms all through his body, and he can't help wriggling against her, squirming with happiness. "Truth."

"Of course," she says, lifting her head from his shoulder. "Mm. Oh, I know. I've always wondered - what exactly is the real reason you started writing mystery novels?"

He mumbles nonsense and reaches out to stroke Ellery's cheek, startling her into wakefulness again.

Kate shifts at his side, leaning into him. "Really, because you gave me that long, involved story about some boy washing up on the beach and then you never once told me what really-"

"I don't really talk about it," he says. He has to clear his throat, chest tight for some reason.

"But there's a story," she probes.

"Wow, I'm tired," he says, scraping a hand down his face.

She darts a look his way, forehead creasing. "Are you - Castle. Are you wriggling your way out of _Truth or Dare_?" She gives a little gasp and he appreciates the way she's trying, he does, but suddenly this little game has gotten serious.

"Changed my mind. Dare," he says.

She laughs and lifts her eyebrows. "Seriously?"

He only shrugs.

"Alright. Dare. I dare you to call your mother - at a decent hour - and ask her to baby-sit. So we can have a night to ourselves." She glances down a Ellery. "Or well, let's try to make it four hours. I think she'll take a bottle if I express, won't you, sweet girl? Hey, there. Oh, you're so tired. So tired. Just a little more, Ella. A little more for me."

He's caught staring, dumb-founded and dumbstruck and all those stupid words that indicate the lack of wits and brain cells that happen to him when he sees his wife and his littlest girl. His baby daughter. And Kate.

And somewhere back there is that night in the woods, and how far far away he wants it from here.

"Okay," he says, still stupid to be agreeing to letting his mother anywhere near a newborn. But he says it anyway. "Okay, I'll call her. We'll go on a three-hour date."

Kate sighs softly and leans her head against his shoulder once more. "Can it be like a date-nap?"

"Is that anything like a kidnap?" He's already trying to calculate what exotic destinations they can make it to and back in under three hours.

"No, Rick. Nothing at all like a kidnap. More like a nap-nap." Her voice turns plaintive. "Can we just sleep together?"

He laughs, but God, does it sound good.

"I would never turn down sleeping with you," he says finally. "Truth."

—–


	11. Overprotective momma bear

Overprotective momma bear

— ANONYMOUS

* * *

Kate is parked in the preschool pick-up line, madly checking off items on her to-do list from the precinct, trying not to confuse her work email with her personal. The car is off and the windows down on a beautiful October afternoon, so the sounds of kids on the playground during their last hour of school brings a soothing white noise to her frantic pace.

She needs her weekend to be free, but she's not sure she can get there. Her inbox is overflowing.

She's in the process of composing a terse response to a CompStats bulletin forwarded to her by 1PP when she hears her own son's voice and her head comes up.

Dashiell is on the playground?

She glances to the email, hazards a guess that it's mostly official enough, hits reply. Looks back to the rubber tire strips and bright colored plastic that is the preschool playground.

Just in time to see a kid shove him to the ground.

She's out of her car and flying across the sidewalk, up onto the strip of grass to the chainlink fence. The gate is locked - as it should be for a preschool with her children in it - but she's halfway decided to scale the fence when Dash catches sight of her.

His face colors, and his embarrassment immediately checks her reaction, if not her livid desire to beat the kid that just pushed her son.

She takes a breath. "Hey there, Dash," she offers, leaning against the fence and letting her gun and badge show. Smiling.

The kid menacing him is bigger, of course, Dashiell having inherited her narrow bones, but he looks startled by her presence.

"Dash, is your teacher out here? I want to cut out of car line if I can." She doesn't mention a word about how he's sprawled in the rubber beneath the monkey bars, a kid twice his size standing over him. "Ask Ms. Amy if you can go."

Dash jumps to his feet and races off, not uttering a sound, and the bully who pushed her kid is still standing there, a confusion on his face that Kate, despite being the adult here, absolutely relishes.

She says nothing.

Dashiell already has so much going against him, issues wise, that she will _not_ add helicopter mother to the list. Besides, Dash has his father's charm, and she realizes, belatedly, that her son might have very well talked himself out of that confrontation if she hadn't crashed into the fence like an animal at the zoo.

The bigger kid wanders off with one last look at her gun - okay, she _did_ employ some not-so-subtle scare tactics there - and she stands by the gate, breathing through her nose to cool herself off.

Amy comes back with Dashiell just moments later, his teacher smiling and unconcerned, Dashiell's backpack in her hand - the sign-out clipboard in the other.

"Sorry for this," Kate offers. She pulled _I'm a cop_ just now, didn't she? Amy is letting Dashiell leave by the playground gate when that's not the usual procedure. All because Kate saw her kid get pushed. "Thanks for letting him skip a few minutes early. Dashiell, my man, what do you say to your teacher?"

The gate unlocks and Kate takes the clipboard, signing her name and printing it just beside the signature as Dashiell gives his teacher a wave.

"Bye!"

Kate chuckles, hand touching the top of Dashiell's head, takes the backpack from Amy. "Dash," she prompts.

"Thank you," he offers, and then his smile too, and even though it's a little rattled, he doesn't seem damaged by the incident.

"You're very welcome, Dash. Have a good weekend."

"Thanks, really," Kate says, nodding, her hand around Dashiell's. They turn back for the car, and she has to restrain herself from interrogating her son for information.

Once he's buckled into his car seat, Kate shuts the door and climbs behind the wheel of the Audi. She glances in her rear view to check behind them, but she sees the look on his face.

"Hey, my wild man. Wanna tell me what happened on the playground?"

His head swivels to the window as if he needs the visual reminder of the monkey bars and slide and swingset. "Mommy, he pushed me." He sounds surprised.

"Yeah, baby, he did. Do you know what started it?"

She has a text from Castle, a picture of him and Ella with matching goofy grins and - bubbles? She can't tell; she slides the phone into the cup holder and eases out of the car line.

"Mommy?"

"Yes?" Her heart is thumping a little too hard.

"I told Miller he was a big fat dummy."

Oh.

That's different.

"Are you gonna arrest him? I think you should arrest Miller. I think you have probable cause."

And Kate can't help but laugh.

—–


	12. Dash Shannon dinner

Hmm... Could i have both? Shannon/Dash AND Shannon/Castle ? I love the cute romance stuff but it also sounds so wonderful to have a dad like that :D

— MANUXINHACE

* * *

Castle presses his phone to his ear and chuckles. "Sure, buddy, come on over."

His son lets out a breath over the line. "Good, okay. Cause I promised Shannon dinner and I got nothing in my fridge."

"Shannon?" New one. He hasn't heard anything about the kid's friends since Dashiell started obsessing over getting into med school. "Hey, my man, have you gotten your MCAT scores yet?"

"We won't know for a couple weeks."

We? "Who is Shannon?"

"I told you about her," Dashiell says, sounding rushed. "Hey, I gotta go, we're heading down into the subway station."

Dashiell is taking the _subway?_ What in the world?

But before he can ask, Dash has hung up the phone and Castle is left with nothing. He frowns into the screen and then hauls himself out of his desk chair, making for the kitchen.

"Kate?" he bellows. "Kate, Dashiell is coming to dinner. And he's bringing a girl."

"A girl?" Kate comes out of the laundry room with the basket, tucks it on her hip. "Wait. What dinner, Castle?"

"Uh, yeah. I'll need to make something. Whoops."

"What _girl?"_

"He said Shannon?"

"Oh."

"You know her?"

"I think Shannon is his tutor," Kate says, surprise and knowledge coloring her voice. "Oh, that's - interesting."

"What. What's interesting?"

"She was the smarty pants. He said she made him feel like an idiot their first tutoring session."

"For the MCAT, right?"

She nods. "She's in pharmacy school."

"Huh." Castle rubs the back of his neck. It's been a rough road with Dashiell these last few years; the poor kid couldn't figure out what he wanted to do with his life. With Ellery in California, Castle knows that Kate was afraid Dash would never figure himself out.

But med school is good. Very good. And if this girl helped him pass the test, then he's all for it.

"Shannon," he murmurs. "Well. Okay, then. Let's knock her socks off."

Kate drops the laundry basket at the couch and comes to him, grips his biceps as she shakes her head. "Castle."

"What?"

"How about we make this low-key, babe? I'm sure Dashiell has no clue he's bringing Shannon home to meet the parents."

"What? But he just called and said-"

"You know Dash," she says softly, tilting her head. "He just thinks he's getting off cheap."

Castle laughs, wraps an arm around her shoulders to tug her into his side. "Yeah, good point. The social subtleties are sometimes lost on our kid."

* * *

Oh my god. Can you please continue the dash dinner? And the car crash one. Oh God. Those are so fantastic

— ANONYMOUS

* * *

After the Jessie/Miller fubar when Dashiell was twelve, Castle and his wife have attempted to keep a little closer eye on their son's friendships. While every other kid went through an awkward, painful adolescence, Dashiell never did.

No, unfortunately, his whole experience with the world has always been awkward and painful. Being a teenager was more of the same, an everyday struggle to fit into the neurotypical world. When it became evident that Dashiell couldn't even fathom his peers' facial expressions or body language, Rick and Kate gave him some crash courses in the social senses, but it wasn't always enough. To help him out, they used to gauge his friends carefully, acting as a litmus test for the times when Dashiell was completely lost. Even Ella would come home with advice for Dash about the people he was hanging out with.

So as dinner progresses, and Castle can see his generous, kind, deep-hearted son is absolutely smitten with this girl, he pays attention. Kate is watching the young woman as well, that listening openness on her face whenever Shannon speaks, that interrogator's quicksilver adaptivity when Shannon reveals some small piece of herself.

Honestly, the woman is as reserved as Kate when he met her, closed down even in her facial expressions. And while Castle could always read the set of Kate's eyes and the depth in them, he's having trouble pinning down this woman's angle.

Clearly she _likes_ Dashiell.

He thinks it's clear.

She wouldn't be here otherwise, right?

He's not sure if she's shy or simply wise enough to keep her comments to herself. Dashiell talks enough for the both of them, that's for sure, but he constantly looks to her as if to check, and she'll give a little nod of reassurance. When Ellery was here, Dash did the same to her, checking to be sure he was on the right track, using his little sister as a guide.

Shannon will answer direct questions, but she won't put out her own opinions. She says something short about her father, but no other family. There's no way to know if that's just because she hasn't spoken enough, or if it's because she's only got her dad.

It's a little maddening, how close to the vest she plays it. Reminds him of early days at the Twelfth, and he finds himself a little smitten with her too.

The mystery of the thing. And he knows that Dashiell is exactly the opposite - he _hates_ the mystery of figuring out people.

So when Kate culls Dashiell from his friend's (girlfriend's?) side, taking him upstairs for linens he's left behind, Castle has Shannon all to himself.

Kate throws him a sharp look and a nod of her head, and he knows exactly what his job is. He stands up and begins clearing the table, but Shannon hops up and helps, refusing to sit even when he tells her she's a guest.

"Oh, no, Mr. Castle," she says quickly. "You haven't made me feel like a guest. And I appreciate that. So I'm going to help."

"Well," he says ruefully, "I guess that's alright, so long as you don't call me Mr. Castle. It's Rick. Or Castle. I answer to either one."

She says _Rick_ to herself, a furrow between her brows, and he can see she's not entirely comfortable. He can't tell if it's being separated from Dashiell, if it's being alone with him, or if it's the familiarity. But she has no trouble stepping right up by his side and rinsing plates, taking over the loading of the dishwasher.

She's confident. She's in pharmacy school, Dashiell told them. She said she likes the math of it. "You really don't have to load the dishwasher," he says, chuckling a little at how determined she is.

"I feel like I should. Dinner was really good," she tells him. "I don't cook - I don't exactly know how, honestly. And it's just me. I - loved it."

He raises his eyebrows, catching an almost crack in her voice, the shadow behind her eyes. She lives alone, no one taught her how to cook?

"You're welcome to dinner any time, Shannon. Even without Dashiell, if you want. Or need."

Something flashes through her when he says _need_ , almost like a flinch, and he wonders if that's it. If that's what they're dealing with here, a wounded bird.

"I just might take you up on that," she says, like a warning. The flinch has morphed into flash, and a pretty little smile from the side of her mouth.

No bird here. Wounded cub, maybe. But ready to fight for herself. He wonders if that's new, acquired over years of wounds, or if she's always had it.

"You do that," he insists. "Dashiell has a tendency to forget what isn't in front of him. So Kate and I would love the company. Well, if my wife's here. On Tuesdays and Thursdays it's just me and one of the grandkids, usually the baby, and Kate stays late to catch up on paperwork."

Her half-smile twists the corner of her mouth. "I can do that. It's - a date?"

He laughs, appreciating that. "Sure. I'd like that. I start dinner around seven, so it's still warm if Kate makes it-"

"I can help?" she says quietly, a question in her voice. After inviting herself over to one of his dinners, now she's hesitant?

"You can definitely help. I'll teach you to cook. You can't be worse than our daughter, Ella."

Her face goes blank, that same deer in the headlights look Kate used to get when he guessed too correctly about personal details.

"Shannon?" he says, asking because he has the urge to treat her just like his daughter, to carefully fold her into a hug until she can stand up straight again.

But she takes a half-step back and wrings her hands, lays them flat to the counter, nodding. "That would be really nice, Mr Cas-" She shakes her head. "Rick."

He meant to ask about Dashiell, probe the girl as subtly as he could about her impressions of his son, get a read on where this relationship is going. But instead, he finds himself wanting to protect her, shield her somehow. She's something like Kate, but nothing like Kate at the same time.

"Hey, Shan!" Dash calls from the stairs. Shannon's face opens up when she hears his voice, relaxing, and she slips around Castle before he can even register the change, heading for the stairs to meet him.

Dashiell hops down the last two steps like a kid, one hand gripping a ratty lumbar seat. "Mom gave me one of my old video game chairs. Haha, isn't this so cool? It's Star Wars. And it has a cup holder."

"Well, that's perfect," she says, her voice steady once more. Dry. "At least now I've got a place to sit in that empty apartment."

"Dashiell," Kate admonishes. "I _told_ you to pick up some folding chairs at least."

He ducks but his grin is for her Shannon. "Well, problem solved, Mom. Anyway, Shannon said she'd take me to this flea market place outside the city."

Shannon is at once that perfectly reserved, confident woman, keeping her own counsel, lips faintly curled in amusement.

Dashiell takes her by the hand though, their fingers lacing, and it says all Castle needs to know.

—–


	13. easy to love

**#255 (Dash Universe)**

* * *

 _anonymous asked: three word prompt: easy to love_

* * *

Castle finally manages to settle the wild man for sleep, but it's closing in on two in the morning. He creeps out of Dash's room and closes the door very gently, braced for disaster, thinking to hear, at any moment, the baby's sharp cries once more.

He lets out a slow breath when he hears nothing, and then he heads downstairs, ready for bed himself. He's surprised to find Beckett waiting up, and not just still awake, but also doing the dishes in the sink.

"Beckett?"

Her shoulders inch up around her ears, but she lifts her head and eyes him steadily.

It might be approaching two in the morning of the one of the longest days in one of the longest weeks making up one of the longest months of his life, but Beckett is the mother of his son. And that means he's not going to bed until she does.

When Castle reaches the kitchen bar, he leans in against the granite counter and tries on a smile. "He's asleep finally. Only took two hours of pacing, right?"

She gives him a short nod and drops her gaze to the sink. Her hands make the water ripple. She brings up one of the wine glasses that are too fragile to go in the dishwasher, rinses it carefully.

He watches, biding his time. His eyes are burning with grit, his arms worn out from holding Dash all night. But Beckett won't look at him.

When she lays the wine glass on the rack, he rounds the bar and forces himself into her line of sight, blocks her from going back to the sink. "Hey. Hey, now. What's up?"

Her hands curl towards her chest, held away from him, wet. He cups her by the elbows, wishing he could hug her.

He's been wary of calling her 'Kate', such is the power her first name wields, but Beckett ain't cutting it. Beckett is for delivering coffee in the morning or her first Christmas with his family and a newborn too. Beckett is for the friendship they've managed to maintain despite that newborn, and Beckett is the strong woman of the daylight. Not this. "Kate? What's wrong?"

Her mouth twists. Just once, a fast movement that still somehow betrays a chasm of distress. He immediately wraps his arms around her, if not for her then for himself, unable to stand apart when she looks so raggedly desperate.

She actually cants into him, though her body is held stiffly in his embrace. He hugs her tighter. "What's wrong, what's going on-"

"I'm not any good at this," she whispers. "It's just so hard. I didn't think - I knew it wasn't going to be easy but I didn't think it would be so hard."

"It," he echoes, his stomach dropping. He knows she went into this dragging her feet, that her first instincts were definitely not the same as his own, but she said yes. She said-

"This is just impossible," she frets. "When was the last time I had more than four hours of sleep? And then I spend ten hours with a weapon on my hip, not entirely alert. He's nine months old, Rick. The Hamptons was an utter disaster. He never sleeps. He-"

"It's okay," he says stupidly. (Oh God, what if it's not okay? No, no, he can do this; he will make this okay.) "I've got this, you know. Got your back. Partners, Beckett. That's how this works."

She sighs and steps back, her arms dangling at her sides. "At least there's that."

He swallows roughly, nodding. He won't drag her back into his arms if she doesn't want to be there.

"At least he's got you," Beckett says, letting out a breath, her smile tight. "That's really the only thing that kept me sane, you know, while I was pregnant. I don't know if I told you that, but I should have. You deserve to know."

"What?" he says, bewildered by the tenderness in her eyes, the strange shift in their conversation. He knows he gets maudlin late at night, but did she say he deserves to know? "What kept you sane?"

She reaches out and catches his hand, squeezes. "The certainty that this baby has a great dad." Her smiles lifts, a somehow wistful thing. "No matter how terrible I am at being a mom, I know that Dashiell has the best daddy."

"Kate." His heart is a mess. "I... Wow. But you're a great mom. You're doing everything right - you love him."

She gives a quick sniff, pressing her knuckles to the corner of her eye. "Right. And you make it look so easy."

"He's my son, _our_ son. Loving him _is_ easy."

Suddenly Beckett steps right back into him, bumping hips and chests in a strangely desperate embrace. He wraps his arms around her once more, relishing the chance to offer her some kind of comfort, pleased by this spontaneous affection from her.

"Loving you is easy," he says quietly.

She snorts.

He grins softly, touching the back of her neck, wishes he hadn't asked her to marry him just a week ago, because he wants to do it again, right now, see if her answer will change. "But I promise even for me, it's the _liking_ that's a little harder."

Beckett chuckles against him. "I see. Especially at two in the morning?"

He smiles back, squeezing her in his embrace. "See? You're starting to figure this out."

The light brush of her lips at the corner of his mouth is startling, somehow erotic. "It's because I have the best teacher in the world. Thank you, Rick."


	14. Ferrari driving Ellery

**#257 (Dash Universe)**

* * *

 _Ferrari driving Ellery  
-anonymous_

* * *

She paces the kitchen. Makes a tight turn, comes back around again.

"You're like a tiger in a cage," Castle grins. "I can practically see your tail flicking at every stalk. You nervous or something?"

Kate Beckett is never nervous. She's a Deputy Commissioner for goodness sake. But this is her daughter. And only Ellery can make Kate's palms sweat like this.

She smooths out the invisible wrinkles in her grey slacks and her husband chuckles.

"You hush your mouth," she tells him, jabbing a finger his direction.

He has the knife though, slicing their bread for tonight's dinner, and he waggles it her direction. "Just delighted. Endlessly delighted."

She glares but her quelling looks have long since faded with time and proximity; Rick barely pretends to be cowed at all these days. She really loves him for that, for calling her on her bullshit and forgiving her for mistakes and just all around sticking this out with her when she started this such a complete mess and so often feels she must still be one.

"I really love you," she tells him, swinging back and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I really - oh. Is that new cologne?" She takes a lighter breath, lets the subtle tones drift to her consciousness. "Mm, faintly mint and sandalwood? Teak?"

"Shut up," he mutters. "It's aftershave. So I want to smell nice for my long-lost daughter. Don't tease me, Beckett. You said you really loved me."

She smiles against his neck, closing her eyes for a brief moment for all the ways she does really love him (he did just entirely put out of her mind how nervous she is to talk to her own daughter, and all with a little aftershave). "I do really love you, Rick Castle." But before she can make them maudlin with memory, the key scrapes in the lock.

She stiffens and shoves off her husband. "There she is, she's coming. Okay, oh no, Rick, the pasta was such a stupid idea-"

"It's fine, it's all fine. Leave it alone, Kate." He bats her hands away from spaghetti sauce and pushes her towards the front door. "Prodigal daughter returns!"

Ellery, caught halfway through the door with a laundry basket full of her and Nick's dirty clothes, rolls her eyes at her father. "Whatever, Daddy. You said we could laundry during dinner." She turns and hollers over her shoulder. "Nick! Hustle, babe, I smell spaghetti and it's my favorite."

Kate blinks, stunned stupid by _it's my favorite_ and _babe._ When did her daughter start sounding so much-

"Wow, you're exactly your mother," Castle chuckles, reaching in to pluck the basket from her hands. "I'll start this. I'm the house expert. Have Nick carry his load into the laundry room and he can learn my secret ways."

"Oh, it's divide and conquer, is it?" Ellery muses, turning now to Kate. "Thought we'd buried the hatchet, mother."

Why is she sweating _buckets_ at that superior look on her daughter's face? This girl she _birthed_ and swaddled and potty trained and- "Ella," she releases with a rush. "No conquering, I promise. I just - have something for you."

Ellery lifts an eyebrow in silence as Nick finally makes it down the hall under the weight of two large duffel bags. She points, like the queen Kate has molded her to be (no, this is all Castle's fault, entirely a daddy's girl), and Nick pecks Ella's cheek and heads for the laundry room.

And then Ellery wrings her hands and shifts on her feet and she's not at all the accomplished twenty-something retiring at the peak of her capable and successful career. She's Kate's little girl.

"Come here, sweetheart," Kate sighs, holding out her arms but making that first step despite the command. She enfolds Ellery in her embrace and takes a long breath in, the scent of spring soap and leather, as always, like she can't leave cars alone. "I love you."

"Mama?" Ellery squeaks.

"I'm not dying," she mutters, laughing a little at how it sounds. She steps back and releases her daughter, crooks her fingers. "Kitchen. I have something for you."

Kate is nervous again, but it's a good kind, stomach full of butterflies and all the hope she carried around for these last few years made incarnate before her very eyes. Her daughter, content and even joyful. There were times Kate thought Ellery was too much like herself, and unable to let herself rest.

"So I was thinking," Kate starts slowly, laying her hands on top of a manilla folder. "You haven't found a job yet-"

"God, I'm trying, Mother. I just don't-"

"No, no." Kate has to check herself to keep from stepping back, so _fast_ did they fall into old habits. "I didn't intend it to sound critical, Ella. I meant, it's still true you're... somewhat soul-searching?"

Ella sets her face, gives a guarded nod of assent.

"Well, I don't - want you to lose out just because you're agreeing to move back to the city with Nick."

"Lose out," Ellery repeats slowly, eyes narrowing. "I thought you liked Nick."

"I do," she firmly. "I love Nick for you. This isn't about Nick. This is about you. And I... I'm butchering this." Kate winces and shoves the manilla folder across the granite countertop. "Open it and see what you think. I don't have it in me to make the persuasive argument. Just pretend your dad is here."

Kate sinks down to her elbows on the counter and buries her head in her hands. She's really messed it all up, from the beginning. They were at odds the second Ellery walked through the door. Kate never gets this right. She's hopeless-

"You want me to _work_ with you?"

Kate stiffens, but she lifts her head and straightens her spine to face her daughter's - whatever this is. Wrath. Disdain. Well, shock for right now. "I wouldn't be your direct superior," she says first, getting herself out of the way of things, hopefully. "You'd report to the head of Driver Education Training and it's a huge department." Kate has to bite back the term of endearment; _baby_ wouldn't sound like she has confidence in her adult daughter's adult decisions. "I probably wouldn't even see you that often, because my offices aren't in that section of the campus."

"But... you're the Deputy Commissioner of Police Training," Ellery says. Her face is a mask that Kate _knows_ she learned from herself. She has her own self to blame for it.

"Yes," Kate answers, though she felt like that was a given. "And I - Dad said you'd not be happy with me pulling strings, and I'm not. You'll have to be vetted by Deputy Shah; he's head of the Driver Training, but-"

"You want me to teach police training cadets to drive," Ellery says, her eyes boring into Kate's. "That's what this is."

"Y-yes." She resists the urge to wipe her damp palms on her dress pants. "More, I..." Might as well go for broke. "I want you to do what you love."

Oh, God, she's made Ellery cry.

Kate rounds the counter and gingerly gathers Ella into her arms, biting her bottom lip as she rocks the girl a little. But Ellery shoves back, pushes back on her and waves the letter of recommendation in her face, swiping at her tears. "Oh my God. Mom. _Mom_." Ella gives a choked noise and turns her face away from Kate, shaking her head.

"I know you hate to cry. I'll-"

"You're _awesome_."

Kate stops, arrested by the bar stool. "What?"

"This is amazing. I didn't - it never once occurred to me that you'd _want_ me there, but oh God, Mom, I've been thinking about it. Remember when you sent me and Dash to train at the course with one of the guys and Dash wrecked the car? I _loved_ that, my first taste of high performance driving, and it was - it's been in the back of my mind all this time."

Kate is floored. "You - want the job?"

"You don't mind me being there?"

" _Mind_?" Kate gasps, and she reaches out and drags Ellery back into her hug, not letting her go, tears be damned. "I know you hate to cary, but too bad. Do I mind. I'm _so_ glad you'll be there." She won't cry; she won't. Rick will laugh. "And I sent you and Dashiell to the driving school because you two kept stealing the damn Ferrari."

Ellery gasps and then chokes on her surprise, laughing harder now but clinging to Kate.

Clinging.

It feels so good. "You thought I didn't know? At least one of you had the skills to not get yourselves killed."

"Yeah, and you scared Dash away from cars permanently," Ellery laughs. Kate can hear the eye-roll in her voice, and as Ella pulls back, she can see it. "You do know that's why he won't drive."

Kate shrugs. "Better safe than sorry - and don't tell your father I said that, because he thinks the opposite. Also, it's New York. And Dashiell has Shan, thank God for answered prayers."

Kate is about to turn away and call for Rick, tell him it's all clear, when suddenly Ellery is wrapping her in a tight embrace once more. A hug so fierce that Kate's ribs burn. "I love you, Mama. I'm sorry I'm such a brat. But I'm going to be the best instructor you've ever had, and then I'm going to run that department. I won't let you down. I'll make you proud."

Okay, maybe she's crying too. "You have never let me down, Ella Kate." She pulls back just enough to cup her daughter's face, so much like her own. "And I am voraciously proud of you."


	15. Close your eyes

_**anonymous** asked:_

 _Three word prompt- "Close your eyes"_

* * *

It's too crowded to let Ella keep walking, so Castle swings her up into his arms. She's shivering despite her little wool peacoat, and she huddles into his chest, her cold, bare fingers on his neck.

"Almost there," he promises his silent girl, maneuvering them through the shoppers and tourists out late tonight on Fifth Avenue.

Ellery peers out from under those dark bangs, sits up a little straighter in his arms as she glances around them. They haven't yet reached the best part, but there are still quite a number of interesting people for her to study.

When he crosses the intersection approaching Rockefeller Center, Rick palms the back of Ellery's head and nudges his nose into her. "Okay, baby girl. Close your eyes."

Ella's nose scrunches up before she can manage to close her lids, and she has her hands in fists as well - like they all go together.

"Good job, cricket. Hang on. We're almost there."

He can already see the massive tree, lit up a few weeks ago, but it's the store displays he really wants to show off. They start long before the skating rink and the tree, and this year it seems like every single window is a bright holiday theme, a melange of gold and silver, red and green, blue and white. Plastic trees, LED lights, frosted glass, messages in a variety of languages - everything.

When they finally approach his favorite, he kisses his daughter's cold-pink cheek. "Okay, Ellery, you can look now. Open your eyes."

Ella's dark lashes part and her face reflects the glory around them. Her mouth drops open and her arm tightens around his neck.

"Daddy."

He grins and hugs her a little harder, stepping closer to the window. "Beautiful, isn't it? Look at all the Christmas decorations, baby girl."

"'Ful," she breathes. Two words, almost two, back to back, and she's not even three yet. He told Kate it would work itself out. She's a smart girl.

"Beautiful, that's right," he coaxes.

Ellery leans forward and puts her nose to the glass, her eyes taking in the elaborate winter scene before them. The snow looks real, glistening and wet, piled in drifts against the window, snowflakes etched right onto the glass. The trees are bare sticks, paper bark that peels like a birch tree, while birds nest in their branches. Red cardinals, grey doves.

The birds flutter and coo, the trees move as if in a wind.

Reigning high at the back of the display is a massive ice palace, a castle formed of sparkling smooth clarity that look so real he can practically feel their frozen touch. Turrets and a moat with swans, flags fluttering by some unseen magic.

"Castle," Ellery sighs, leaning hard into the window and making it fog with her breath. "Daddy."

"I know, baby girl. Isn't it amazing?"

"Mazing."

"Everybody decorates just for your birthday, Ellery Kate. Did you know that? All the lights and special things are just for you."

"Me?"

"Just for you."

Instead of lingering to stare into the window, Ella lifts up and throws her arms around his neck, squeezing tight. "Daddy."

He hugs her back and kisses down into her neck until she giggles. "Let's see all the rest of the windows, cricket. Just you and me."


	16. Won't Let Go

_Three word prompt: Won't Let Go_

 _— ANONYMOUS_

* * *

"This movie sucks."

"Don't say sucks."

"Mom," Ellery huffs. "This movie _blows_."

"Ellery Kate-" her father mutters, but doesn't even look at her. "Language."

"You said if the situation merits-"

"Castle," her mother sighs, the back of her hand hitting his chest. "Stop telling them they can curse if it's the only word that works."

"Sucks isn't cursing," her brother pipes up from the floor. He always has her back. "Blows isn't cursing either, Mom. We'd have to say like fuck-"

" _Dash_ iell. Alexander."

"Dash," Ella giggles. "How are you so stupid?"

"Ellery, don't call your brother stupid. You don't like this movie, fine. I personally do not care. It's not your turn to pick."

Ellery screws up her mouth and mimes her mother's snark, but gets her ear pulled by her father for it. He won't rat her out, sitting in between her and Mom, but gives her the eye for it.

She slumps deeper into the couch. "It's not even real."

"Titanic did too happen!" Dash pops up again, his face hot. It was his choice, her stupid brother. "It's _real_."

"Dash, my man, we know it's real," Daddy says, leaning forward and nudging his foot into Dashiell's side. "I think what your sister means is that this particular version is fictional, but it doesn't ring very true to her."

" _Yes_ ," Ella insists, jerking upright. "It's doesn't - it echoes wrong."

"Oh my God," Mom groans. "We are not going to start that."

But Dashiell is knee-walking towards the couch and then climbing onto the coffee table. "But Dad - no. The Titanic really sank. And people really died. And all those people in the bottom of the boat-"

"Steerage."

"Steerage?" Dashiell is sidetracked by the new word, and Ellery jumps in, leaning into her father's side, her elbow on his thigh to defend herself.

"I know those things really happened. But it's like a Beckett story versus a Castle story-"

"Guys, I think Mom isn't up for a literary debate this late at night-"

"Just because," Ella lifts her voice to talk over her father, "-just because Daddy tells us a story about what happened doesn't mean it's really real."

"Hey, now. My stories are not up for debate."

Mom shifts forward, coming into Ellery's line of sight. "Huh. Okay. I see. Keep going, baby."

Ella's chest tightens, her breath coming fast as Mom regards her. "You tell them right. How they happened, the real story. Like learning about Titanic at school. That's what really happened. But this movie made it up like Daddy makes things up-"

"I do not make things up. I embellish. For effect-"

"Daddy," she complains.

"Hush, Rick."

"No," Dash jumps in. "No, Daddy's stories are real. You just don't understand-"

"I'm not stupid!"

"Ella, baby, no one is calling you stupid."

"I understand," she mutters, feeling Daddy's irritation with her. "That's not what I meant. Daddy, you just make things bigger than they are. I can still see where the outlines of things are right, but you put - you put - you do colors that weren't ever _there._ "

Mom pushes past Daddy and hooks her arm around Ellery's neck, drags her half over Daddy's lap with a loud kiss against her cheek. "Ellery, my baby girl, that is the best explanation I've ever heard."

"What," she mumbles, squirming in her mother's embrace. "Mo-om. I'm just saying this movie is stupid because it's all dumb _I'll never let go_ and no one does that. Jeez."

But Ellery gets a laugh and another kiss on her cheek before Mom lets her go, and Dash is crawling onto the couch to wriggle in between them, pushing her out of Mom's reach.

Daddy puts a hand on her back and smiles. "Don't worry about it, cricket. Mom is always trying to explain what my books do to her. And you just gave her words."

—–


	17. inside-out shirt

_Prompt : inside-out shirt_

 _— ANONYMOUS_

* * *

She always has zero reception in the subway, so when she hustles out of the about-to-close doors and steps onto the platform, her phone vibrates with alerts.

Including a message from her mother, _You on your way?_

Ellery texts her mother from the top of the subway steps, finally in bright blue sky. _Incoming,_ she thumbs out, hitting send on their family's joke.

She texts Dashiell to let her brother know she's on her way, and if they've timed it right, they'll arrive together. She needs her brother's back up on this one if she's going to convince their mother. Mom never listens to her-

Okay. Well. Ellery might be wrong about that. Their relationship has always been a major battle of wills, clash of titans as Dad used to say, but if she's being honest, lately Mom has been listening to her.

Actually listening.

Being back in New York really isn't so bad. She's tried to keep her expectations low when it comes to this new relationship with her mom, but it's really been _good_. She's beginning to think that all they needed was for Ellery to grow up.

She huffs at herself and turns right down the shortcut - she and Dash discovered it one summer, how they could slip into the underground garage here and go up the exit ramp and come out practically across from their own apartment building.

She does now, hurrying as she sees her parents' windows high above, the top floor of the building. The doorman recognizes her now, opens the security door with a nod of his head and a smile. Eduardo has grandchildren now, Dad told her, and he lives on the first floor as a kind of building super, keeping up with maintenance. This guy - Robert - has two gold teeth and wears white gloves, as if her parents' place is fancy.

As she steps onto the elevator, she realizes that it _is_. Maybe it's growing up here, her child's memories of the place, but the building is _really_ nice. Has it always been so elegant and expensive in here? Or has Ellery spent so much time in falling-down dumps in LA that a little teak and chrome and regular maintenance wildly impress her?

Strange how her childhood memories overlap on the real world of the present. Nothing fits quite the same, but it's so familiar, so _home_ , that she wonders if she wasn't just oblivious in high school.

 _Probably._

She hears it as her mother's voice in her head, dry and wry - and that raised eyebrow. Makes Ella feel like rolling her eyes in response and her mom's not even here to see it.

The elevator opens on the short hall to her parents' place, but she catches Dashiell loitering outside, texting on his phone like he was arrested halfway to the door.

"Dash?"

Her brother looks up. His face breaks out into a smile and he shoves his phone into his front pocket. "Ellie! You have your key? I can't get in."

"You don't have yours?"

"I mean, I have it, somewhere. I think. Maybe Shan has it."

Ellery rolls her eyes now, but she digs her key out of her back pocket, struck again by the familiarity in the gesture. She's never changed her keychain either, so it's still the I Heart NY metal bear that was such a popular tourist souvenir for so long. The action is so normal that inserting the key and opening the door happens automatically.

She's turning back to Dashiell to comment about that - to see if he's felt the same now that he and Shannon have a place of their own - but a noise has her stumbling to a halt.

Dash runs into her, the noise echoes strangely in the open floor plan of her parent's apartment, and then the confusion gives way to a dawning, horrific realization.

It comes again. A shout this time, less moan to it.

From her parents' bedroom through those open bookshelves for walls.

Dashiell turns wide round eyes on her.

Ella is speechless, her cheeks burning. The shout comes again and then her _father's_ voice saying something, just those low tones, and Ellery shoves on her brother.

"Go, go, go," she hisses.

They _run_. But for some reason, they both run and hide under the stairs like they're four and six all over again, hunched in and giggling and leaning into each other.

"Oh my God," Dash gasps. "Oh my God. They're-"

"Shut up, shut up, _shut up_."

"Ellery. Did we just-"

"No. _No."_

"What are we supposed to do? Mom _knew_ we were coming."

"I texted her," Elle hisses back. "I _just_ texted her."

"Text her again."

"What?" she squeaks. "Right now? But-"

Another jumble of sounds comes to them from the back bedroom, and then it's their _mother's_ voice, and she's _moaning,_ and they both jerk as if electrocuted, wide-eyed and breathing hard and hysteria rising.

"Was that Mom," Dash chokes out.

Ellery grabs him by the arm and yanks him out from under the stairs, rushing towards the open door. She pushes him through and grabs the knob, almost slams the door before she catches it, closes it as softly as possible.

"Oh my God, oh my God," Dash moans, moving in a tight circle in the hallway. "We could hear them _groan_."

"Oh, _God_. Dash. Shut up."

Dash is slack-jawed, eyes so dark and wide. But then his lips twitch.

And hers twitch in response. Something like hilarity is replacing the hysteria.

Dash leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, good for them."

Her mouth drops open but she can't find words. Hysterical laughter is beginning to bubble up in her throat.

Dash grins. "I mean, I feel kind of lucky. Over twenty years I've been spared a sight like that. And well, I guess I still didn't see anything, but damn. Mom's moan at the end-"

"Oh, God, Dashiell, you really can't. You cannot go there."

"I guess Dad still has it."

" _Dash._ "

"No, seriously, how many years did we all live in this same little loft, with those open bookshelves for walls, and we _never_ walked in on them?"

"Stop talking about it!"

"You're laughing."

"I'm not laughing," she shrieks, but oh God, she's _dying_. She just overheard her parents having sex. Her parents _still have sex._ "What are we supposed to do now? I told her we were going to be here. We can't just - do we go inside?"

"Text Mom again."

Ellery digs her phone out of her back pocket and tries it again. _Dash forgot his key, so I'm going to let him in._ She shows Dash before she sends it, knowing that it sounds inane to say something like that - when has she ever had to clear it with her parents to let Dash in? - but not even Dash can come up with something better.

So she hits send and they pace the hallway, their eyes occasionally meeting and those desperate giggles bubbling up again.

Her phone buzzes in her hand and they both huddle together to look.

Text in reply from Mom, _Okay, but Dad and I are both here. Or he can wait for you._

"What do we do?" Ellery whispers. Like her parents can hear them.

For a moment, they just stare at each other. And for some reason, she has never in her life felt closer to her brother than right now.

No one else can possibly know what it is to be Kate and Rick's kids, to grow up in this family, this loft, this city, the experiences, the fun, the laughing, the stories, the problems - the issues.

No one else is her older brother. She is his only little sister, no matter how many of Allie's little girls were raised under their roof with them.

It's always been Ellery and Dashiell, Dash and Ella.

"You 'unlock' the door, and I'll knock as we come in," Dash says, nodding decisively. He strides ahead of her and comes to the door, giving it a lively rap of his knuckles. She fits the key into the still unlocked lock and before either of them can move, the door is being pulled open.

By their mother. "Hey, guys. There you are."

Their mother... whose shirt is inside out.

XX


	18. Dash leaves home

_Dash leaves home (for the first time)_

* * *

Dash squirms on his bed, a fist in Rex as he watches his mom pull clothes out of his dresser drawers. Shorts. T-shirts. His _underwear_.

"Dash? Baby, can you show me which socks are the good ones?"

His stomach churns. "Only the ones with the stripes."

"Okay, hang on," his mother says. "Let me check the laundry. I know Daddy washed everything."

Dash stares down at the suitcase. He's supposed to lug that thing to camp? It doesn't even have wheels. Mommy said she would carry it to his bunk, but what if he has to go real fast? What if he has to leave?

"Hey, buddy."

Dash glances up and his dad is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Rex wriggles under Dash's hand and jumps up, bounding over to Daddy for a rub down.

His dad bends over and scratches Rex behind his ears, talking easily. "So Mom is looking for the socks that don't make you itch. And I thought I'd see if you needed any more help."

Dash grips the edge of comforter and trembles.

"I don't want to go," he rushes out.

Daddy doesn't look surprised. "You don't want to go. Ellery will be there."

"On the girls' side," he says, gritting his teeth. "Dad. I don't want to go."

"I know you don't," Dad sighs, sitting down on the floor. "It's only for two weeks, and Mom and I think it's a good experience."

"I have issues."

Dad laughs, rubs his hand over his face. "Right. Well, kiddo, thing is, we all have issues. At least you know yours. You're ahead of the rest of them."

Dash picks at his bedspread, his chest tight. "I don't think I can do this."

"I'll make you a deal. You go with Ella, you spend the night. You call me in the morning. Take your phone-"

"I'm not supposed to take my phone."

Daddy points a finger at him for quiet. "Take your phone. You call me in the morning, and we'll talk about how it's going."

"I don't want to go," he whispers. "My anxiety is a ten, Daddy."

"I get it, buddy. I do. And I'm hoping that you and me talking it through will give you some coping skills."

"Talk is cheap."

There's a laugh and he sees Mommy coming back through into his room, stepping over Dad and ducking his head. "Dash, baby, found your good socks. Where do you want me to put them so you can find them?"

He stares down at the suitcase, the neat stacks of shorts and t-shirts, but he doesn't know. He doesn't have any idea what summer camp looks like, what his bunk looks like, what _happens_ every day, what they're supposed to be doing.

"Dash?" Daddy asks.

"You promised to take me on a tour. You promised."

Mom sighs and sinks to the bed beside him. "Baby, we couldn't. It never worked out. But you're ten years old, and I know you can do this. Ella will be there-"

"On the girls' side," Daddy says, wincing.

Dash presses his hands between his knees and hunches his shoulders.

Mom touches the back of his neck and squeezes. "We saw pictures online, remember? Do you want to look again?"

"Five pictures," Dash mutters. "I don't want to do this, Mommy."

Dad stands up and comes to the bed, sits beside him, hushing Mom with a noise in his throat. "Dash and I talked about making a deal. He can call me every morning."

"Or I can call Mommy?"

"No," they both say quickly.

He scowls, glancing back and forth between them. "No?"

"Mom has work," Dad says. "Mom-"

"Mo-om!" Ellery screeches from the other room. "Mommy, I need my brush!"

Mom yells back at her. "Find it yourself, Ellery Kate."

Dash rounds his shoulders and tries to float. Float on the anxiety that's a ten, float above the feeling of being sick sick sick in his stomach. Float away.

"Dash," Daddy says softly. "Call me tomorrow morning. After you see how it goes. If I have to, if you need me, I will come get you."

" _Rick_."

His breath comes a little easier, and he turns to Daddy. "You'll come get me if I hate it?"

"I'll come get you."

"Rick, you cannot make that promise right now with the case-"

Ellery comes running into his room, dodging Rex on the floor to fling herself at the bed. "Mommy, Mommy, I can't _find_ it."

"Ella, baby girl, we're talking to Dash-"

"Dash is a scaredy-cat."

"Ellery Kate," Mom snaps. "Back to your room."

Ella huffs and crosses her arms over her chest, but Mom glances back at _him_ , like Dash knows what to do. Mom leans forward and circles her arms around Ellery, making Ella gasp as Mom drags her onto the bed with them.

"Listen, guys, this is important. I've got a case, at work. It's very - it might take all of my time these next two weeks. Which is why it's so great you guys are going to summer camp. You get to swim and do archery and ride horses. Dashiell, baby, I know you're not happy, that your anxiety is high, but Ellery will look out for you. Won't you, Ella? My good hearted girl."

Ellery freezes, and Dash shrugs at her. Mom never - this isn't like Mom.

Dad snakes an arm around his shoulders and squeezes tightly. "You take your phone, Dashiell. I don't care what the rules say. We'll talk to them about it. You have your phone, and you can call me."

"But not Mom," he says, sneaking a look at Ella.

She scowls and tilts her head back to look at Mom, which means Ella didn't know nothing about it either.

"What if I don't want to stay?" he says finally.

Daddy interrupts Mom before she can answer, talking over her. "Then I'll come get you. Both."

" _No_ ," Ellery says hotly. "Dashy. You _have_ to stay. I'm not leaving!"

"All or none, Dash."

"Not fair," he growls. "This is not fair. Just because of _work_."

"Not just work," Dad says. His voice is very quiet, very hard. "It's more than work."

"Mom gets bad guys," Ella says proudly. "Dash, you better stay. I will punch you-"

"There will be no punching," Mom declares. "And Dash - if you can't do it. Then you guys are going to Allie and Rafe's."

Dash groans, slumps back to his bed. "Too many _girls."_ Rafe is always at the restaurant. He'll be surrounded.

"Come on, kiddo," Dad says, hauling him upright. "You were excited about camp last month. It's just all that excitement building up and then not knowing what it will look like. Give it a chance. I know you can handle it."

"Dash has issues," Ellery says, kicking her feet in Mom's lap. "But I don't. Dashy, I can sneak over to the boys' side and-"

"Let's hold off on sneaking over to the boys' side," Dad says firmly. Mom laughs and leans down, whispers something into Ellery's ear that Dad doesn't seem happy about.

"Dad," Dash says. His chest is funny. "Dad, I need a squeeze."

"Okay, enough talking then." Dad embraces him and stands up, shaking him a little back and forth until Dash giggles. "You better? Because we need to pack. We're leaving in an hour."

No. No, he's not better, but it's not just camp going on here. He glances to Ellery from the band of Dad's arms, and she nods.

"I'm better," he says finally. He's gonna throw up, but at least Ellery is going with him.

And he can bring his phone. He can bring his phone and call Daddy and Daddy will come get them both and he'll be stuck at Allie's with girls, but it's better than not having any place at all.

Mom stands up with Ella in her arms and comes into them, stepping right into Dad's hard squeeze to kiss Dash's forehead. "I promise we're not just ditching you at camp, baby. I promise. Call Daddy every morning. I'll do what I can to be close. I love you both. Ella? You hear me? I love you both."

Mommy sounds like her anxiety is at a ten too.


	19. Ellery versus bully

_Ellery versus bully (bullies)_  
 __Arraydesign_

* * *

"What the hell is wrong with him?"

Seventeen sidewalk squares to the bus stop. Marlowe Prep's gate to the bus stop, seventeen squares. Seventeen is the _worst_ , but Dashiell counts the steps inside each square as he goes and it's better.

"Get a _move_ on it, Dash-hole. You're holding up the whole bus."

He risks a look but Ellery is ignoring them. Dash can ignore them too. He can. Seventeen is the worst, but he has to do seventeen because the _bus_ is at seventeen and it's waiting and he has to get on. He hates prime numbers.

More kids are talking, yelling things at him from the bus windows. Ellery is at the stop now; he can see her leaning in to talk to the driver. Asking her to wait for him. He just knows the numbers, seventeen to the bus stop, and three striding steps in each block, but four if he's not being rushed.

He is, however, being rushed. So counting by threes is a little better and the nines make it just right-

"Five-six-seven-eight-seventeen!" Ellery yells back at him. "Hurry _up_ , Dashiell. I am not missing this bus because of you."

He can't stop to speak or he'll have to start all over. All over. One-two-three, that's eighteen steps at square six. That's good. One-two-three, that's twenty-one, which isn't so bad, Paul O'Neill was number 21, but the Yankees still haven't retired his jersey and that makes Dash anxious.

" _Dash_. Wrong name for you, kid. You ain't fast-"

"Shut your face, Carson. You're only making it worse."

Dash is going as fast as he can and still get each step right, avoiding the stains that are oil or gum or blood (how is he supposed to know? Dad tells stories and sometimes they are really true)-

"No kidding, Dash. Hurry _up."_

"Shut up yourself," he yells to his sister. "If you keep talking to me, I'll lose count and have to start all over."

"Don't you dare. It's twenty-three, you're at twenty-three - don't you _dare_ start over."

He grips his fists, his chest getting tight. Twenty-three steps, twenty-four, that's eight sidewalk squares of seventeen. Nine to go, which is three threes, nines are really good, and he can do that. He doesn't have to start over; he doesn't.

He's close to a nine on the anxiety chart - he's being rushed, Ellery ditched school at lunch time again and he's not supposed to tell (he's no good at secrets), there are seventeen sidewalk blocks, his teacher gave them a pop quiz and he didn't know five of the answers, the snow is slush again and it soaks into his shoes (Mom should have known; she usually tells him to put on his boots instead), and the bus makes him want to vomit. Hurl. Blow chunks. Toss his cookies.

The bus sucks. Hard.

But he has to. Mom says it builds his resistance, and he has to stop loitering after school to avoid them all. Dad says he can do anything he puts his mind to. Ellery will kill him in his sleep if he makes her miss the bus again. One-two-

"Dashiell. If you don't get on the bus, I'm leaving you here."

His heart jumps into his throat. He breaks eye contact with his shoes and jerks his gaze up to her.

She's leaning out from the open door. Her scarf is tangled around one strap of her backpack, and there are older guys hanging out just behind her, watching him and her too, and it makes him feel wrong.

It's all wrong. He needs to start over. He has to start over.

"No. Dashiell. Don't you dare."

Dashiell turns and darts for the wrought iron gate of Marlowe Prep and shuts his ears to everything else - his sister, the bus grumbling and hissing on the street, the kids streaming out of school, the boys from his grade who keep looking at Ellery like that, the five questions he got wrong on the pop quiz that Mrs Moultrie isn't supposed to give him but did anyway-

"Dashiell. Get _back_ here. Twenty-four, eight squares. Dashiell _Hammett_."

He starts over, going faster now, making up for lost time, the bus like a huge dumb beast berating him with its loud, messy engine idling at the curb. Ellery darts up the bus steps and his heart rate sky rockets (she's not supposed to leave him, Mom said, Mom said she couldn't ever absolutely ever leave him-)

Ellery darts back down the steps, scowling. "She's gonna leave you. Bus is leaving, Dashiell. Just _count faster."_

 _He is._ He is. He's counting as fast as he can, taking three steps fast, faster, hurrying, desperate not to miss the steps in between each sidewalk square because it can't be a seventeen, not today, not today.

He _races_ to the bus stop, all seventeen squares of three steps each, but his guts are churning hard with all the things wrong, wrong, wrong, the ways he skipped and the rules he broke, his palms sweating and his blood rushing in his ears, and all the things he hears but doesn't understand still.

Still.

"This is getting old." Ellery grabs him by the backpack and shoves him up the stairs, shoves him into a group of guys who are backing off the show, shuffling down the aisle. "You are fifteen, Dashiell. This shouldn't be a thing any more. This should _not_ be a thing."

He can't even hear her. Or he hears but it won't process. Words bounce off the hunch of his shoulders and the frantic race of his pulse in his head. All the things wrong, all the rules broken, and Ellery shoving him down the aisle past the seat he _needs_ and she can't leave him, Mom said she can't leave him ever again-

Two of the lacrosse guys stand in his way, shoulder to shoulder near the back. They're not moving to sit down. Everyone else has sat down. Why are they not sitting down?

Why do they keep watching Ellery like that?

Dash sucks in a hard breath through his mouth, trying not to smell them. Trying not to taste their deodorant on his tongue but it's better than the other smells in here. Better. Relatively speaking. It's better. He can do better; he can be more.

The lacrosse guys aren't moving. The driver is yelling at them from the front of the bus, telling them to sit they asses down (why can't she just say it right? why can't she say 'your' like it's supposed to be? why does everyone-)

"Dash, _go."_

He's stuck in the aisle. One of the lacrosse guys does that chin-jerk thing that Tio told him is a bros version _ass-sniffing_ like when dogs meet, figuring out who's alpha dog and who's just not.

He knows he's just not.

Dash freezes, waiting to be inspected, hoping they'll let him pass. He doesn't know what to do. He never does it right. They say things they don't mean and their faces always look like they're twisted up but then they laugh at him and say _his_ face is wrong and he doesn't-

"Derrick, _move_. I am not in the mood." Ellery pushes past him and elbows her way between the two. "Carson. Sit _down_. You get me kicked off this bus after all that, I will castrate you."

Dash takes a short breath to keep from being wrong, anything at all wrong, and Ellery reaches back and snags the strap of his backpack, hauls him forward.

He sinks into the window seat and she sits down after him. His hands are shaking and he doesn't know why.

Ellery yells to Carson, but he can't process what Carson is yelling back. She says something about knowing ways to make him suffer, about how she heard what his girlfriend said about his size (how does she even come up with this stuff and yet say it with conviction? he yells at someone and it just makes them laugh) - and then the bus lurches forward with a hissing and grinding of gears that makes Dashiell writhe in the seat.

Ella grabs the back of his neck and squeezes so hard that he gasps, manages to release some of his tension.

And then she lets go.

Dash closes his eyes, keeps them closed.

Ellery is flirting. That's what it is. Why it makes his skin uncomfortable. She's flirting with the lacrosse boys.

But it works.

When the bus gets to their stop, the boys let him pass. He goes ahead of Ella down the aisle and neither of them say a word to him. Carson tells Ellery her ass is looking fine and Ella tosses off _you wish_ as Dashiell gets off the bus.

They have one quiet block before they'll be home.

 _Home._

The bus is gone. The lacrosse guys are gone. The street is quiet and slush-free and he can take a deep breath without smelling anyone but Ellery. Ellery is home to him, Ellery is right. She never wears perfume or too much lotion, she's just right.

"Did you hear any of what they said?" She's marching off already, leaving him to follow. "Dash. Did you hear-"

"I guess." He heard some of it. He heard _you cunt._

"Next time, Dash. Listen to me. Next time, you tell them, _fuck off_."

He gapes, stumbling in the middle of the sidewalk. She's not allowed to curse like that.

Ellery turns, hands on the straps of her backpack, her hair messy around her face, skirt flaring with the violence of her movement. She's breathing hard, her face is red like she's mad at him.

"Did you hear me, Dash? Are you back?"

"I'm back," he says finally.

"Did you hear me?"

"I… heard you. Are you mad at me?"

"Of course I'm mad at you. I'm mad at - at - _all_ of them."

"But I'm not mad," he says, shrugging. "I don't care what they said."

"That's fine. But I care. You're _my_ brother. And what happens the next time they try to push you around?"

"I tell an adult."

Ellery glares at him. "No. You tell them to fuck off. You say it just like I did. I don't care what Mom says. Forget telling an adult, they make it worse. Dad says there's a right word for every situation. You have to know the right words." Ellery reaches forward and grabs him by the backpack, propels him forward with her. "Those are the only words they'll hear coming from you. Promise me."

He can't make a promise like that.

"Dashiell. I'm not kidding."

"You were flirting with them."

"No, doofus. I was making them _think_ I was flirting. That's how girls survive idiots like them. But you aren't a girl, and you suck at flirting, Dashy. So repeat after me: _fuck off."_

Well, he really does suck at flirting. That's for real. "Fuck off."

"There you go. Almost sounds natural. We'll work on it. Now, stop counting mailboxes or lamp posts or whatever it is on Broome Street. You don't need to do that here. The bus is over."

"It's front stoops," he mumbles. But he stops counting.

She's right; it's over. They're nearly home.


	20. Ella Meredith Kate

_Ella Meredith Kate_

 _— ANONYMOUS_

 _#185_

—–

"Oh, this must be little Ellery Kate?" Meredith gushes as she bends forward, but Ella - and Kate has never been more proud - Ella steps back.

Meredith flushes but stands up prettily and plants her hands on her hips, affecting a pouty look with her hair swinging over one shoulder, studying Ellery.

"Oh, this one is so much like her mommy, isn't she? That's fine, Ellery Kate. I'll leave you to her then. But when you're ready for Paris, sweet little girl, you come find me."

Meredith winks at Ella as if in conspiracy, and then finally lifts her gaze to Kate.

"To what do we owe this pleasure?" Kate says smoothly. "I don't think anyone knew you were coming. Allie isn't even in town." She smiles, beams right through it. "Alexis, I mean."

If Meredith heard the claiming, she doesn't let on, but if it's going to be like that, Kate's daughter for Meredith's, Kate isn't interested in playing. Still. To put a hand on Ellery's shoulder and nudge the girl behind her legs would show a weakness Kate doesn't want to expose.

"I'm in town for a show," Meredith says obliquely, and then doesn't explain. She's pushing her sunglasses back up on her head. "Thought I would drop by and kill some time."

Great. But what can she do? Meredith has an unavoidable claim on their family. "Mere, won't you come inside? We're waiting on Dashiell and Rick before we head out for dinner."

"Oh, that's nice. It'll be just us girls then," Meredith says, waltzing inside and claiming the place with that air of careless disregard that has always irritated Kate. "Until they get back. And I could use a drink."

That sounds like a hint. Kate rolls her eyes but she heads towards the wine fridge and pulls out a bottle. "White?" She glances to the clock pointedly. "I suppose it's not too early."

Meredith is hooking her sunglasses in her loose shirt, smiling like the sun itself. "Thanks, you're a lifesaver." She turns and catches sight of Ella skulking in the doorway, barefoot and scowling. "Ellery Kate, would you like to take my purse? I can tell you've been eyeing it. Go ahead, darling, paw through it. It's top of the line, registered. Oh, don't worry so much Katherine. It's Brighton Beach. I'll pop over and have them clean it for me if her hands are grubby. Here, darling, have at it."

Kate doesn't bother to interrupt what is, for Meredith, certainly a monologue intended to impress while also staking her claim. Instead, she watches in silence as Ellery, five year old hands clutching the heavy leather purse, takes the gift and scampers away with it.

Where she will undoubtedly steal something from inside and hide it away in one of her little holes, and Kate doesn't feel like issuing a warning. Not to Meredith, and not about her thieving daughter, and if it feels like failure it's only because Kate is also genuinely pleased.

Let it be something important.

Tampons. Or that expensive lip gloss with the gold foil in it. And Castle will have to go hunting through the apartment with Ellery sullen at his heels and Meredith screeching while Dashiell hides out with Rex in the laundry because Meredith overwhelms his senses and they're supposed to be doing dinner-

On second thought.

"Hang on, Meredith." Kate jumps up and goes running after Ellery. The girl is already fishing inside the purse, squatting down in the lee of the couch where the shadows hide her. "Ella? Baby, let's not do that. Come back to the living room with me and Aunt Mere. Come talk with us."

"No." A scowl. "Aunt Mere is boring."

Kate grunts in order to keep from laughing. "I understand you think so. But Aunt Mere might need this and then-" Kate gives up persuading and instead reaches out and takes both girl and purse up into her arms. "You like this leather bag? You know what, Ella, I've got one you can have all to yourself, put your own things in it. What do you say?"

Ellery lifts her chin, looks suspiciously at her. But such tentative hope in her eyes. "For me?"

"Just for you. Let's give Aunt Mere back her purse. You tell her you're not her maid. And then we'll make Aunt Mere help us pick out one of my purses for you."

"Not her maid," Ellery huffs, narrowing her eyes and scrambling down out of Kate's grip. She lets the girl go, watches that hair go streaming behind her head, and she wishes (only a little) she hadn't told her to say that.

But only a little.

"I'm not the maid!" Ellery calls from the living room. "Oh. What is that? Can I try it?"

Kate sighs, grips the handles of Meredith's purse, and heads back for some new unfolding potential disaster.


	21. Dash internship Josh

_Can we have a Dash Universe story?. Maybe continuation of Everything That Glitters Part 2. So, the idea is...Dash apparently makes a good friend with Josh during his internship in the hospital, just wonder how castle will handle it. Thanks :))_

 _— JUSTANDONLYD_

 _#191 (Dash Universe)_

 _Short explanation: Dash is AU from 'To Live and Die in LA' wherein Josh was broken up with long before (he was missing from a few eps in a row, so I said see ya to Josh). Thus, the Butcher case in Dash happens as the 'season finale' instead of Kate getting shot._

 _—–_

Kate presses her lips together and seeks out her husband, struggling to keep a straight face. Dashiell follows, still calling _mom, what? what did I say?_ as he tries to keep up with her.

"Kate?" Rick lifts his head from the laptop at the commotion their entry makes in the office. "You guys are detrimental to my concentration. What's all the-"

"Guess who Dash has for one of his attending physicians?"

Castle shakes his head, gives them a helpless look. "I have no idea."

"And you'll never guess." Kate bites her lip and glances to Dashiell, tugging him forward before turning back to her husband. "It's Josh!"

"Who's Josh?"

Kate bubbles with laughter. But Dash leans in eagerly, dropping his leather satchel to the chair. "Dad, he's so cool. Old guy, real smart, he's a heart surgeon. He has-"

"Wait. Hang on."

"-two whole classes on advanced-"

"Did you say a _heart_ surgeon?" Castle cuts his eyes to her, glittering and hard. "Is this Motorcycle Boy?"

Dashiell squawks. " _Motor-_ what?!"

Kate nods, bouncing on her toes much like her sensory-sensitive baby boy once did. "The very same."

"Unacceptable."

"Hey now-"

"Wait. Hang on, you guys are doing it again, Dad-"

"Unacceptable, Kate Beckett. I will not have that _heart_ surgeon overseeing _our son's_ education-"

"You get absolutely no say in the workings of Dashiell's residency program-"

"And explain to me why a resident neuro is taking lessons or classes or whatever you call it from a cardiac specialist? They have nothing to do with each other-"

"Oh, but, Dad, they _do_ ," Dashiell interrupts, stepping between her and Castle to cut off their line of sight. "They have a lot more to do with each other than science ever thought, and the research going on these days about the connection between the heart and head is just-"

"Hang on, baby," she murmurs, touching Dashiell's arm as she leans around him. Kate nudges down the laptop screen. "Did you hear that, Rick? The heart and the head have more connection than we thought."

He sniffs. "I already knew that."

"So let Josh-"

"Motorcycle Boy."

"-teach our son and we'll see what Dashiell learns." She turns to Dash, this grown man with all of her husband's eager and wide-open heart for the world, and she gives him a wink. "But if you guys swap stories about your families, maybe don't mention me, wild man."

"Why not?" he says, face comically blank. "You're the best part of my family."

"Aw, Dash still has a crush on Mommy."

Dashiell's ears go pink and Kate glares at her husband. "Shut up. He's being sweet. You get Ella, I get Dash, so-"

"Except lately, _you_ get Ella too," he grumbles, standing up from the desk and coming around to collar his son. "But, uh, Dash? Don't mention me either. He's not my biggest fan."

Dashiell eyes them suspiciously, only now, it seems, figuring out there's more going on here. "Okay. So how exactly do you know Dr Davidson?"

"Your mom slept with him."

" _Castle_."

"What? You did."

"Mom?"

" _Before_ your dad. No, shit, not technically before Castle. But before we were ever - Josh was my way of healing the heart your dad broke when he took Gina to the Hamptons with him one summer instead of me."

" _Dad."_

"Okay, let's stop right there. It did not go down like that. Your mother is feeding you a biased story-"

"It's a Beckett story," she shoots back.

"Hush, woman, I'm telling it-"

"Dad," Dashiell puts in, raising a hand. "I think, going from experience here - lots and lots of Castle story experience - I want Mom's version."

Castle's lips twitch. But he defers the floor to her, and she settles in to tell the story the way it really happened, broken heart and all.

"See, your dad was following me around the Twelfth, pestering me about going to the Hamptons with him, and I had just figured out I was goofy-silly in love with him…"

"Oh, you're right, Dash," Rick sighs. "Mom's version is the best."

—–


	22. Teaching to shave

_Teaching to shave. Thanks! These three word prompts are wonderful!_

 _— ANONYMOUS_

 _#205_

 _—-_

"Usually soap, but Dad buys expensive shaving cream so we're going to use that."

Ellery tilts her head back and swings her legs from the bathroom sink, watching her mom pull stuff out from the linen closet. She begged all month after she got to school and found out _everyone_ is shaving their legs except her. And finally Mom's giving in.

"You do it in the shower?"

"Yes." Her mom turns with a disposable razor still with the plastic guard in her hand, one of Dad's fancy shaving creams cradled in the crook of her arm. "You sure you want to do this? Once you start, cricket, you can never stop."

Ellery snickers but her mother gives her a very sober grimace.

"I'm not kidding. This is one of those parts of being a woman that feels arbitrary and capricious the older you get. Like buying expensive tampons and needing a prescription for birth control."

"What?"

"Never mind," her mom sighs, dragging the chair from the vanity over to the sink where Ella sits.

She drums her heels against the cabinet and her mother lays a quelling hand on her knee. She stops. Waits. Mom pats her leg and sinks down before her, places Ella's feet on top of her thighs.

"Run water over that washcloth, baby, and get your legs damp." Her fingers circle Ellery's ankles as if measuring them. "You've got my legs, so your ankles and knees are going to bleed. Just a warning."

"Jeez, Mom," Ella says, rolling her eyes as she turns on the faucet. "Way to be a killjoy."

"Sorry." Bu Mom doesn't sound sorry. She's taking the washcloth out of Ella's hands and doing it herself, passing the soaked cloth up Ella's shin to her knee and then back along her calf. Just the left leg, and the bottoms of her shorts are soaked.

Mom squirts shaving cream from the can and the sharp scent of winter trees rises up.

"Smells like Daddy," Ella laughs, grinning at her mother.

Mom actually smiles back, lips pressed in amusement. "I suppose so. This is is favorite. Figured it might cut down on razor burn. First time's always a bitch."

Ella gasps, mouth dropping open at Mom's cursing. Mom _never_ curses in front of them, though Ellery is pretty sure she _does_ curse. Dad does, saying words he thinks are appropriate because he doesn't believe in censorship, but Mom has always kept things separated out, compartments for work, for home, for church, for public. Mom censors. (Though Ella is pretty sure she cusses at Dad when she's mad, just never in front of them.)

Mom waves her hand at Ellery's shock, shakes her head as if it doesn't matter.

As if Ella is old enough now to hear it.

"I'm just telling you like it is, baby girl. You're only eleven. You're going to be doing this the rest of your life."

Her mom says it like it's a death sentence, like Ellery's childhood has been murdered and she's the bad guy here.

"Little melodramatic, Mom. Dad rubbing off on you?"

Her mom levels her with a look, and Ellery shuts her mouth.

Mom goes back to the shaving cream, applying in an even layer over her leg, putting it around her knee and ankle especially thick. She makes quiet comments as she does, _be sure to hold the razor at the base as you go along here, otherwise you'll cut yourself._ Small things. Hints.

Ellery listens.

And then her mom uncaps the razor and holds it out.

Ella takes it by the bright orange handle, glancing down at her leg, getting a better grip on the razor through the leftover shaving cream from her mom's touch.

Her mom, fingers still sticky, taps the top of Ellery's foot. "It's like walking the grid at a crime scene, baby. Start at the bottom, right above the curve of your foot, and draw it up on a slight angle. Then move to the next strip, then the next. Rinse it in the water when it gets too thick. I'll guide you over the difficult places."

Ella places the razor, leaning forward to reach, and her mom nods in encouragement.

"You got this. Go as slowly as you like."

Ellery blows out a breath.

Here she goes.


End file.
